


Hale-Bopp

by tweeksqueak



Category: South Park
Genre: Bottom Tweek Tweak, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Going too Long Without Showering, M/M, Mysterious Circumstances, Self-Harm, Top Craig Tucker, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20337343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweeksqueak/pseuds/tweeksqueak
Summary: A thunderstorm leaves South Park without electricity. Like everyone else Craig found the whole situation to be a huge pain in the ass, but Tweek was handling it inexplicably poorly.





	Hale-Bopp

**Author's Note:**

> Super-mega thanks to Mamalazulli [[Tumblr]](https://mamalazulli.tumblr.com) for proofreading this! ♥

# 0

Craig was about to tell Clyde to shove his Xbox controller up his asshole when the TV went black, cutting off the game they were playing as well as Clyde’s shrieking.

He took his headset off. From the other side of the wall he heard a muffled “What the fuck!” from Tricia, and a thump as something was thrown. He heard the storm too, rain smattering against his windows and the rumbling of thunder close by. Until then he hadn’t noticed it over the sound of the game.

It wasn’t just his TV that had shut off, but also his PC and the ceiling lamp. So a full-on power outage, he reasoned. There hadn’t been one in forever.

Cursing, Craig tried to recall the last time they visited a save point, but came up disappointed. They would have lost a lot of progress. But it was whatever, he decided, because Clyde had started to fuck it all up towards the end anyway. 

Craig spun his chair around, wheeling across the floor to flick the light switch off properly, and to check on his guinea pigs. He found them resting in the hay pile, lazily munching on the straws and grooming themselves. They didn’t seem the least fazed about the abrupt arrival of nightfall.

His phone vibrated on his desk.

“Hi, honey—” Craig answered automatically, but Tweek was already talking over him.

“Craig! Ahh! Did everything shut off for you too?” 

The quality of the call was choppy and Tweek’s shrill voice threatened to blow out the speakers. Craig had to move the phone away from his ear. 

Tweek whimpered. “Oh God, it’s so dark!”

“Calm down babe,” Craig said in his most practiced soothing voice, “it was just a power outage.”

Tweek made a noise of upset and launched into some kind of ridiculous rebuttal but the faulty connection cut him off, leaving Craig with a few seconds of dead silence.

“What did you say?” Craig asked. “The signal is all fucky.” 

“I said, I don’t know man!” Tweek sounded agitated, and Craig could picture him with his fingers in his mouth, biting at his nails. “It was all like… Ugh! Can you come over? Please?”

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do here in his dark, powerless bedroom. “Sure,” he agreed, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The electricity was out in most of the houses he passed on his way over. Some lucky families had functioning backup generators, and he looked at the yellow light from their windows with envy. Those without had huddled under umbrellas on their lawns, talking about the matter with their neighbors and complaining about the show they were watching being interrupted. Craig saw Cartman, Stan and Kyle conspiring on the street outside their houses and took the longer route around them, wondering if maybe they were somehow responsible for the whole thing.

The lights at Tweek Bros. Coffee were on when he arrived, and by the tables a few customers were sipping on drinks. Tweek was sitting at one of the tables too, head cradled in his hands. He looked up when the door chime sounded for Craig.

Craig shrugged off his dripping raincoat and pulled a chair out by Tweek’s table. “Most of town is powerless,” Craig told him, “except for here, apparently.”

“We have a generator in the basement,” Tweek explained. “But I don’t think it will last very long. It’s been flickering on and off.”

“It’s almost closing time anyway.” 

Looking at Tweek it didn’t appear like he could wait for eight o’clock though. His face was pale. 

“Are you okay? It’s only a power outage,” Craig reminded him again.

“I know,” Tweek murmured. “But didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“When it went! It was like— Like a gunshot went off by my ear, but silently.”

“How can something be like a sound, but soundless?”

“It just was, okay!” Tweek snapped, straightening. But the movement was too much for him. He slumped over again. “My head hurts.”

Craig laid a hand over his, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles in what he hoped was a gesture of sympathy. He wondered if Tweek was having a coincidental, ill-timed migraine. Tweek had never actually had migraines before, as far as Craig knew, but Tricia got them sometimes and Craig remembered her likening them to being shot in the head.

“Let’s just close down now so you can go to bed,” Craig said. He gave Tweek’s hand a squeeze and motioned to the cash register. “Go take care of the counter and I’ll shoo the assholes out.”

Tweek didn’t say anything, but limped obediently over to the register. Craig turned to the customers—a couple whispering together and a bald man clacking away on a laptop. 

He stood. “Alright, we’re closing, so get out.”

They all turned to him, staring dumbly. 

“This place doesn’t close for another hour,” the woman protested, and her boyfriend nodded. They seemed reluctant to trade the dry warmth for the rain outside the shop.

“Well, today we close early, so fucking leave,” he said, then added, “Please.”

“You don’t even work here,” the bald man muttered, but he gathered up his belongings and left with the others. When their backs were turned Craig sent them off with a middle finger. 

To speed up the process for Tweek he scooped up the cups and plates left behind, dumping them in the dishwasher in the back room. He was two-thirds through sweeping the floor when Tweek came up to him, keychain jingling in his hand.

“Leave it. Let’s just go,” he urged. Craig abandoned the broom propped against a wall.

Tweek punched in the code for the alarm, and they left the building in the same dark as the rest of town. The rain had eased by then to a light drizzle, and the sky was quiet.

“Where to?” Craig asked. His house was closer, and he guessed Tweek would want to crawl into bed as soon as possible.

Tweek groaned. “I should tell Mom and Dad I closed early.”

“So call them.”

“I turned my phone off. I don’t want the battery to run out! What if I need it for an emergency?”

“How long do you think the power will be out? It will be fine, c’mon.”

Tweek worried at his lip and said nothing. Craig sighed and pulled his own phone out. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

He had no data signal. The storm had been more severe than he had first thought if the mobile network was down too.

He dialed up the Tweaks’ landline and when that didn’t work he tried Mr. Tweak’s cell phone. Craig hated talking to Tweek’s parents, but probably not as much as Tweek hated talking to them himself, so Craig didn’t complain too much. He didn’t allow Mr. Tweak to speak all over him, like Tweek tended to do, and ended the call quickly, blaming the fickle reception.

After he had hung up Craig took Tweek’s hand and led the way. For the entirety of the walk Tweek was silent, except for the low little noises of pain he made. He walked very slowly, but at least Craig didn’t have to carry him, thank fucking God.

Back home Mom had lit candles in the kitchen. “Oh, there you are,” she said when she saw them.

“Tweek’s staying over,” Craig told her, knowing he didn’t need permission.

Tweek waved at her. In the unreliable light of the flickering candles it was hard to tell he was unwell.

“Only Dad missing then,” Mom said. “I don’t know how to make our generator work.”

“Me neither,” Craig said, and tugged Tweek with him up the stairs before he could topple over and give himself away. Craig didn’t want Mom to start fussing. She tended to baby Tweek, which was totally embarrassing.

He left Tweek outside his bedroom and knocked on Tricia’s door.

“The fuck you want, asshole?” she snapped at him. She leaned past him and added in a much more cheerful voice, “Hi Tweek!”

“Hi,” Tweek answered.

“Tweek’s got a headache. You got some shit for that?”

She put her hand on her hip and cocked it in the most obnoxious teenage-girl move she could’ve possibly pulled. “I guess,” she said before closing the door in his face. When she opened it again she dropped a carton of painkillers in his hands. “Take two unless you feel like you’re about to explode—if so take three.”

Craig didn’t thank her, and left her to do whatever she was doing in the darkness on her own. He led Tweek into his room. Tweek was being uncharacteristically docile, not moving unless Craig made him. He did take the circular little pills without prompting though, and drank all what remained of Craig’s water bottle. Craig pulled the blinds down, but left the slats horizontal to allow some sight.

“I’m going downstairs again,” he said. “Try to sleep it off.”

“Okay,” Tweek mumbled. 

He burrowed into the covers still wearing all his clothing. Craig kicked himself for not thinking to remove them, but didn’t want to bother Tweek any more.

Back downstairs Craig found Dad still wasn’t home, and Mom was solving crosswords in the candlelight.

“It’s a shame,” she said, “I was looking forward to _ NCIS_.”

“Mom, that is such a shitty show. None of the original characters are left, so who even cares anymore?”

“Oh fuck off, you,” she said affectionately.

He instinctively went to the coffee maker to brew Tweek a cup of coffee, but realized it wouldn’t work without electricity. At least the water was still running, though only cold, and he filled another two bottles to bring upstairs.

“Where’s Tweek?” Mom asked.

“Sleeping. He had a long day.”

“Poor thing. He closed early?”

“Yeah.” Craig didn’t elaborate further.

Eventually Tricia emerged from her room. They sat in the dark together, all three of them, catching up. It was surprisingly pleasant and cozy. Dad came home from Skeeters around nine, complaining about the power even though the bar’s standby generator had kept it open. He went down to the basement to look at their own generator, but came back soon to declare it busted. Mom berated him for letting it break.

It didn’t take long for Craig to bore of his parents bickering, and without TV or Internet he couldn’t come up with anything to pass his time with except for going to bed and hoping for everything to be resolved tomorrow.

Tweek was asleep when Craig eased the door open, snoring softly and looking peaceful. The difference from earlier was great. He didn’t wake up when Craig fed the guinea pigs, nor when he chucked his clothes into the hamper. Craig slid into bed next to him, and Tweek came to him in his sleep, slipping his arms around Craig’s chest. He had undressed at some point, his bare legs brushing against Craig’s. Usually, on Friday evenings when Tweek had clocked out of work, they’d come to Craig’s house and put a random Netflix show on high volume to drown out the sound of them having sex. But tonight Tweek seemed unusually content and at ease in his sleep, and Craig couldn’t bring himself to feel disappointed to not be getting anything tonight. He threw an arm around Tweek and fell asleep too.

# 1

The next morning was a Saturday, and for once Craig woke up before Tweek. His phone told him it was ten am, which meant he’d slept for almost twelve hours, Tweek even longer than that. Unusual.

Craig tried the lamp by the bed, but it didn’t flick on. No surprise—it was early on a weekend morning out in Bumfuck Nowhere, so one couldn’t expect the issue to be treated as urgent just yet. 

In the night he and Tweek had moved apart. Craig was glad he didn’t have to unstick his sweaty limbs from Tweek’s to get out of bed and risk waking him up. The floor was cold on his bare feet and he shivered, the feeling traveling across his shoulders and neck.

The guinea pigs gave him their usual loud good morning greeting, and he shushed them uselessly. He fed them brown pellets from his hand, taking the opportunity to scratch their heads as they ate, before he dumped the rest of their breakfast in a bowl. He refilled their bottle in the upstairs bathroom, and when he returned Tweek was awake, blinking at him with big, sleepy eyes.

“Mornin’,” he drawled.

“Morning.” Craig sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah!” Tweek said, beaming. “I woke up at some point in the night, but I took another Aspirin, and then I slept fine. I don’t even remember dreaming anything!”

“That’s good.” Craig motioned to the ceiling lamp, and said, “The power is still out.”

“Oh, that sucks. But I guess it means I don’t have to go to work today.”

“Nice. Then we can hang out.”

“What are we going to do without power, though?”

“I can think of something.” Craig snuck a hand under the blankets to caress Tweek’s leg, scratching his fingers through the hairs there, up towards his inner thigh. 

Tweek grinned and clasped his hands behind Craig’s neck, pulling him into bed again. Propped on his elbows over Tweek Craig leaned down to kiss him. He tried to be mindful of his morning breath and keep the kiss close-mouthed, but Tweek had no such concerns and coaxed Craig’s lips apart. The tip of Tweek’s tongue feathering across his gums sent a ripple up the back of Craig’s skull and down again, down all the way to his cock. It twitched in his boxers and he shuddered.

Between their bodies he could feel Tweek hardening, gradually but quickly. He moved in small, jerky thrusts with his hips, using Craig’s body to rub himself off. Craig liked when he did that—when he was so eager for it that he couldn’t keep still. It made Craig feel hot and wanted.

He pushed into Tweek’s mouth. He had some slimy morning fuzz coating his teeth, like algae, and Craig made a game of scrubbing it off with his tongue. Tweek reacted as if he was touching him somewhere far more sensitive, humming and groaning and squirming around, his dick jabbing Craig in the stomach over and over.

The simple thing to do would have been to hump Tweek into the mattress and call it a day, but Craig hoped to make up for what they hadn’t gotten to last night.

He asked, “How far do you want to take this, baby?”

Tweek cupped Craig’s cheek, thumb softly tracing the arch of his cheekbone. “Mmh, guess? I want you inside me.”

There was nothing sultry about the way he said it, but the words hit Craig hard anyway. He had to reach a hand down and wrap it around himself to soothe the punch of arousal in his dick.

To really convey what he wanted—as if Craig needed more encouragement—Tweek opened his legs further and let Craig fall into the space between them. Craig hummed in approval, using the excuse of sucking hickeys into the skin of Tweek’s shoulder to cool himself off before he made a premature mess of his underwear. He was unusually riled up today, painfully turned on.

They rarely bothered with going _ all the way _ outside of their Friday evening routine. Though Craig had not minded deviating from their regular pattern last night he now, when Tweek was seemingly okay again, realized that missing a week would have sucked major ass—in the non-literal, non-sexy way.

They kept kissing and grinding together for a while, until the impatience radiated off Tweek like heat waves. He was tugging urgently at Craig’s hair, mumbling a, “C’mon,” into his mouth. Craig didn’t exactly mind moving along.

He peeled himself away from Tweek, kicking his boxers off. While he leaned over the side of the bed to rummage through the bottom drawer of his bedside table Tweek surged upwards, claiming Craig’s neck like he had done Tweek’s but with a lot more teeth and bite. The condom didn’t want to leave its box when Craig fumbled with it and Tweek laughed, told him to hurry, and in the end Craig brought the whole carton with him to bed.

He sat back, leaving Tweek sprawled below him. The wet patches on his neck tingled. Tweek raised his hips, letting Craig ease the unremarkable white briefs he always wore down his legs. To get them all the way off without moving from his spot Craig hiked Tweek’s legs up, pushing his knees against his stomach. When the underwear lay crumpled on the floor Tweek stayed that way, exposed and accessible. 

Craig handed him the lube and let Tweek prepare himself as he felt necessary while Craig slipped a condom on. Tweek rushed through the motions, one finger barely inside before he pushed the next one in. When he was three fingers deep he pumped them awkwardly in and out, the angle all wrong from a self-pleasuring point of view but from Craig’s view it was sexy as hell. Again he had to grab himself to take the edge off. He gave his dick a couple of lackadaisical tugs, just enough to stay grounded. Sweat had already begun to bead at his hairline despite the exerting part not even having started yet; just watching Tweek touch himself was working him up into froth and lather.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Tweek stuffed his fingers inside himself one final time, deeply and harshly, holding them there for a couple of long seconds. 

“I think you can do it now,” he said when he pulled them out. 

He wiped his hand on the comforter—which was pretty gross, honestly—and then reached down to spread his cheeks apart, an invitation if Craig had ever seen one. He swallowed the saliva pooled in his mouth. 

He pushed into Tweek without much difficulty. The controlled, deep breaths Tweek took told Craig he was concentrating, trying to stay calm and loose, but if Tweek was in pain he made no fuss about it. Meanwhile Craig was taunt, tense, trying his best to go slow, to be gentle. Being inside Tweek felt like it always did: tight, hot, perfect. Craig had never really gotten used to it. He counted one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three and four and ten, all the while barely moving a muscle, more for his own sake than Tweek’s.

It made the first slow thrust of his hips so much more savory. He had drawn it out for long enough now, teasing the both of them, and now he harvested the reward for his patience in the moan Tweek let go of.

“Feels good?” Craig asked, hoping to bait Tweek into telling him in dirty ways. It always turned him on.

Tweek laughed—a few short giggles which he breathed into Craig’s neck. “No,” he joked, rubbing his nose against Craig’s throat, ”I’ve never been more bored! What do you think, stupid?”

“I didn’t ask if you were _ bored_.”

“Still,” he said, a challenging bend to his words, “maybe you should do something about it?”

Craig took the hint and hoisted Tweek’s butt up to rest against his thighs so he could fuck him faster, deeper. In the quiet room their sex-sounds seemed overloud: the squeaking bed, the way their skin slapped together, their ragged breathing, the lube Tweek had opened himself with squelching. Craig hoped no one in his family was around to hear it.

Tweek clung to him. “_Mhhyes_, you’re so good. I love it when you—_ngh_—fuck me like this. So fucking— Ahh! Please…” he rambled and there it was, the pleasure-muddled babble that Craig wanted to hear from him.

Craig couldn’t stifle his own moaning. In what felt like a dam within him the water was splashing around wildly as he neared his own climax. He wanted to get there before his legs went sore, or Tweek got a cramp, or something else happened that would force them to change positions and break the rhythm they’d worked up to. 

He felt Tweek’s hands roaming across his back, stroking, kneading, digging his nails in. 

Craig hissed. “Dude. It hurts.”

“Ah! Sorry…” Tweek breathed. He ran the pads of his fingertips over the indents, apologetic. 

The touch was feather light. Craig shuddered through the tickle it caused, burrowing his forehead in the space between Tweek’s shoulders and neck. The sheets were dark and warm and soft against his face. He was so, so close. Blindly he grasped Tweek’s cock, jerking him off to the same tune with which he thrust into him. Tweek whined, and if Craig didn’t know him by now he would’ve thought it was a cry of pain but Craig did know him, inside and out, knew it meant Tweek was close too.

Craig still came first. He rode his orgasm out in slow, pointed shoves, willing the good feeling to last for as long as possible. He was beginning to soften when Tweek let out a startling curse and coated his own belly with come.

They wasted a few minutes staring at the ceiling, trying to catch their breath. Craig felt giddy and fulfilled, and the cheeky grins Tweek kept showing him was a good hint that he felt similarly.

Craig let Tweek take the first turn in the bathroom to clean up. Before he left he smeared a tired kiss against Craig’s lips, potent with affection. It made Craig’s stomach flutter in a way not even the promise of getting his dick wet had ever managed to arouse—it was a different excitement, a kind he knew the meaning of but chose not to dwell on.

Craig tied the condom off and tossed it. His phone had less than half a day’s worth of battery left, so he turned it off. It didn’t have any data signal, but Craig wouldn’t have wasted its juice on scrolling through Twitter even if he could. He got out of bed instead. It was late enough in spring that the morning came with plenty of daylight, making it possible to see even though none of the lights were functioning. Craig laid their clothes in the hamper and picked out something new to wear.

He passed Tweek in the hallway. The air between them was charged with the energy of what they’d just done—like a shared secret—unspoken but acknowledged through the faces they made: Craig winked and Tweek responded by sticking his tongue out. 

There was no window in the bathroom, only a flashlight on the sink to navigate by. Craig didn’t trust himself to hit the bowl under such conditions and sat down to pee. The water was much too cold to shower with. He cleaned himself with a cloth, shivering and miserable, and rushed to pull his clothes on. After brushing his teeth he ended up feeling fresh enough anyway. It wasn’t so bad, he thought, being without electricity.

He realized how wrong he was when they went downstairs for breakfast. On the freezer sat a note not to open it, and on the fridge one that urged them to finish the food quickly before it spoiled. Eating would become annoying soon without the fridge and the oven and the stove. He pulled out cereal and milk, because the milk would be the first thing to go bad, he guessed. The fridge was already more like a cupboard than a cooling box.

“So what the hell do we do now?” Tweek asked, mouth full of cereal goop.

“Go outside, I guess?”

“Outside? Yuck,” Tweek joked. “I bet the whole town had the same thought.”

He was right. Everyone they did and didn’t know was outside, in their gardens or out in the streets. Though leftover puddles from the storm had made the ground wet and muddy at least it was sunny and bright, not gloomy like indoors. 

They didn’t have to walk far before they spotted Clyde. They waved him over, and he came jogging towards them.

“Guys!” He met them both with fist bumps. “This is so crazy. When was the last time you saw everyone outside like this?”

“Uh, like, last time this happened?” Craig said, dryly.

“That was years ago!” Clyde grinned, and there was a spark in his eye. Craig didn’t understand why he found the situation so exciting. “Anyway, let’s hunt down the others and hang out. It’ll be like when we were kids, before the Internet.”

“The Internet existed before we were born,” Tweek pointed out, but Clyde waved him off with a hand.

“We can go to all the special places where we used to play!”

Without their phones to communicate finding each other was like a search-quest in a video game. They located Jimmy outside an elderly couple’s house, chatting about something Craig couldn’t hear, but he came hobbling over once he saw them.

“W-what’s up guys?” he said. “The Stonecutters were really upset. They were talking about going down to the Mayor’s office, whatever good that would do.”

“Old people are so pissy,” Craig said. “I bet the Mayor’s glad the phones barely work.”

“It’s not even her responsibility, is it?” Tweek asked.

“I don’t think so, no,” Jimmy answered.

Craig took charge and led them down the sidewalk in the direction of the Blacks’ mansion. “If anyone still has power, it’s Token,” he said.

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that!” There was a hint of disappointment in Clyde’s voice. “I guess we can have a normal day, then.”

The Blacks’ lived at the edge of town, where the houses were sparse and the roadside landscaped. Craig’s group crossed through Stark’s Pond, which was the shortest way if you didn’t mind getting your shoes muddy.

Clyde did mind, complaining, “These are brand new kicks, guys, c’mon!” but Craig ignored his whining. His shoes were nothing special anyway, just white sneakers. He should’ve known better and picked another color.

There were a lot of people Craig recognized at the park, mostly other teenagers leaning against trees drinking coke and smoking cigarettes, tossing the butts on the ground. Craig expected the place to be absolutely littered by the end of the day. He couldn’t be bothered to chat with these losers, and herded his group along when they tried to stop and say hello to whatever dumb schoolmates they caught sight of. He wished they had taken their bikes, and was disappointed by his own lack of forethought. 

“Hey there, kids,” someone called, and Craig was about to tell them to go fuck themselves when he realized an adult had said it.

It was Stan’s fat uncle Jimbo and his buddy Ned, skulking around by the fringe of the woods. They carried shotguns slung over their backs, but that wasn’t really unusual.

“Jimbo, Ned,” Clyde greeted.

“Crazy what is happening, isn’t it?” Jimbo asked.

“Is it?” Craig was wary—these two could be pretty weird.

Jimbo scratched the fold on his chin. “You didn’t see it either, then?”

“See what?” Clyde asked, eyes big and attentive again. Craig wanted to smack him over the head for being so gullible—a pretty common urge when hanging out with Clyde.

“During the storm, out in the woods,” Jimbo began. He lowered his voice, as if he was telling them a secret. “Ned and I, we saw this bright light go down somewhere out there.”

“You mean you saw lightning during a thunderstorm?” Craig asked, unimpressed. “Wow. Crazy.”

Jimmy snickered next to him, and Clyde looked sobered, like he was embarrassed to have expected anything else from two crazy rednecks. Jimbo flustered, his fat cheeks pinking.

“Mmm no,” Ned said in the rough noise produced by the throat-back, which had always creeped Craig out. “Not lightning. It was… solid. Something small.”

Jimbo seemed encouraged by Ned. “Yeah! It’s real suspicious. We think it might’ve caused the outage.”

“You mean deliberately?” Clyde asked, apparently already hooked again.

“Maybe,” Jimbo said. He leaned forward and whispered, “Whatever it was knocked out the whole grid, the Internet and the radio! We suspect the government might be behind it, or aliens.”

Clyde gasped, and Jimbo seemed self-satisfied by his reaction, as if he was a magician having amazed his crowd. Craig crossed his arms, straightened to his full height and gave Jimbo his best cut-the-bullshit glare.

“Alright, enough. We don’t want to listen to your conspiracy theories. Why the hell would the government give a fuck about this shitty little town? Why would anyone? And aliens? Seriously?”

The intimidation worked, apparently, because Jimbo took a few steps back. He raised his chin defensively, but he cut an nonthreatening figure, short and chubby as he was.

“We’re just warning ya’,” he said. “Don’t go in there. Me and Ned will figure this out, even if no one believes us.” He adjusted the gun sling over his shoulder, and motioned for Ned to follow him into the thick of the trees. Before they disappeared he turned back and called, “Be careful!”

Once they were out of sight Jimmy burst out laughing, and after a tick Clyde joined in too, more uncertain. Craig rolled his eyes, incredulous of some of the shit people believed.

“Well I’m glad that’s over with. Let’s go,” he commanded, and Jimmy and Clyde fell into step behind him.

But Tweek remained where he was, still looking at the spot where Jimbo and Ned had disappeared into the woods. Craig cursed himself—obviously their talk had gotten to Tweek, who was more susceptible to mad conspiracies than anyone else he knew.

He went back and took Tweek by the hand. “Honey, come on, they’re delusional idiots. _ Clyde _could make up a more believable story if he tried. Let’s just go.”

“But what if they are right?” Tweek countered. “I told you, man! When the power went it wasn’t like a normal outage. It was like a shock wave! And the phones too? It makes no sense!”

“You’re the only one who felt anything,” Craig pointed out. “You were probably just frightened.”

“I didn’t make it up, okay? Something weird happened!” Tweek clutched Craig by the fabric of his jacket, tugging imploringly as if shaking him would make what Tweek was suggesting more convincing. “What if it’s a foreign government trying to sabotage our infrastructure to overtake the US as the leading global power and South Park is the preliminary testing site before they move onto the bigger cities? No one will care to investigate such a small town and once they figure it out it will already be too late! We’re doomed! _ Ahhh! _”

He broke off into a scream, letting go of Craig to tear at his hair. _ Fantastic_, Craig thought. He’d worked himself into a panic. Ahead Clyde and Jimmy had come to a stop, staring back at them confusedly.

Craig grabbed Tweek’s arms, stopping him from balding himself twenty years too early. “Babe, it will be okay, I promise. There are over ten-thousand small towns in the US. If someone actually _ was _targeting us why would they pick South Park of all places? The odds of that are so slim they’re pretty much nil. Anyway the whole idea is about as far-fetched as extraterrestrials coming to visit us.” Tugging Tweek close, until they were face to face, he gave Tweek no choice but to meet his eyes. “Nothing bad is happening. You trust me, right?”

For a while they stood quiet and still. The process of weighing the accuracy of Craig’s reasoning was practically visible on Tweek’s face.

“I do,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in and out. Craig watched as the shivers left his body. “I’m coming.”

Pleased by his cooperation, Craig gave him a quick kiss. Tweek took his hand and Craig led them back to Clyde and Jimmy, who at this point knew better than to ask questions.

They walked in silence until the path merged with the bigger roads. It wasn’t very far to Token’s now, and Craig took the lit up windows in the houses as a promising sight.

“If we’re lucky we’ll get w-warm dinner,” Jimmy said, and Clyde hummed happily at the prospect.

“I wonder what they saw out there,” Tweek said, almost too quiet for Craig to hear.

At first he didn’t realize what Tweek was talking about. “Let go of it. I already told you: lightning.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Tweek asked, and gazed over the woods and the mountainous backdrop.

Craig groaned. “Ugh, please stop. You’re better than this, alright?”

“I’m just saying,” Tweek started, but didn’t finish. His brows carried a small furrow of uncertainty. 

Craig did not to argue with him. Having been together for so long, he’d learnt how to pick his fights with Tweek. He would have to come to terms with it himself now. They had reached Token’s house by that point, anyway.

The gate opened before they had time to ring it, and Token waved at them from the front porch.

“Somehow I knew you’d come here,” he said. “What’s up?”

“We’re hoping you’ll let us mooch off you,” Clyde said, fully honest. “It looks like you still have power!”

Token sighed. “We do. Come in.”

The house was lit up sparingly, but lights there were. Mr. and Mrs. Black were reading in the sitting room, and everyone greeted them with overly polite hellos.

“Wilson is making lunch right now, boys,” Mrs. Black told them.

Token nudged Tweek’s arm. “There will be coffee,” he promised. “Hot coffee.”

Tweek smiled gratefully.

“So can we play on your Xbox?” Clyde asked.

“What? No. We’re trying to preserve energy.”

“Really?” Clyde motioned to the sparkling chandelier in the hallway. “It doesn’t look like it.” 

Token shrugged. “Sorry.”

Craig didn’t really care about the Xbox; this was a lot better than what anyone else they knew was getting. He’d bet money on it. Though the generator flickered on and off randomly there was a feeling of normalcy inside the household. They were fed, twice, and the food was cooked and warm. He could piss without worrying about spraying everywhere, because the bathroom was lit up. By the time evening rolled around he counted it as a successful Saturday despite the circumstances. They said goodbye to the Blacks at the door and trudged home through the puddles, back to their own lightless houses.

The streetlamps were dead along every road. Tweek feared the dark, or rather all the kidnappers and rapists he was sure were lurking in the bushes, so Craig walked him all the way home. He was sad to part, but Tweek explained that he needed to speak to his parents about the coffee shop. Outside his front door Tweek leaned on his tiptoes to kiss him, and when he attempted to pull away Craig brought him back in, prolonging and deepening the kiss. There was no trace of Tweek’s earlier worries on his face when they finally broke apart. 

Craig left with a feeling that the weirdness would finally be over tomorrow.

# 2

The second day without electricity was gloomy, the grey clouds blocking out the light of the sun and making it hard to see much of anything at all indoors. Craig woke up feeling like he was still half asleep, lethargic and heavy. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of his comforter. Instead he slipped a hand into his boxers, squeezing his half-hard cock into fullness with a few firm tugs. When he masturbated he kept his eyes closed and remembered yesterday morning, when him and Tweek had rumpled the sheets on his bed, sheets he still hadn’t changed yet. He came thinking of the heat inside Tweek’s mouth and ass, even more blissful than the warmth from any of his comforters. He still felt sluggish afterwards but at least his blood was pumping now, bringing some clarity to his head. 

He woke up for real when he got out of bed to wipe the spunk off on a tissue and knocked his knee against the dresser. His swearing woke Tricia up too and she banged on their shared wall, yelling at him to shut the fuck up.

When the pain eased he reached for his phone, the movement pure muscle memory. The screen showed him nothing but a reflection of his own tired face. He remembered it was turned off to preserve battery and sighed, tossing it back on the table. 

Mom had disposed of their last analogue clock not too long ago, which in hindsight seemed a poor thing to do in case of a situation like this. He had no idea what time it was. It could be between seven or ten am he guessed based on the point in the sky where he saw sunlight filter through the clouds. 

He should probably hurry up and find Tweek before he had a meltdown about something or other. They’d gone more than twenty four hours without texting, when in a normal week they would be on the phone constantly when apart. If Tweek hadn’t been in the same blackout as him he would have blown up Craig’s phone just in the time since they parted last night. Craig could imagine the wall of messages he’d send, overly concerned and increasingly absurd, and was glad that Tweek’s phone was out of use too. Tweek was needy like that, kind of like a dog. He didn’t like being left alone. While Craig was busy jerking off Tweek had undoubtedly been waiting for him to show up, biting at his nails in worry, wondering if Craig had somehow died during the walk between their houses.

Craig made a sandwich with ham for breakfast. The butter had almost melted down completely in its carton, but it still tasted like butter, so what the fuck ever. He left after another cold wipe-down with a cloth, and a new pair of boxers and a shirt. His hamper was getting full, and he wondered if it was possible to properly wash clothes in cold water.

He didn’t get more than a few feet in the direction of Tweek’s house when Clyde came running after him.

“Craig! Wait for me, bro!” he called. When he caught up he was panting, though he couldn’t have run the length of more than two houses. “You picking up Tweek?”

“Yeah,” Craig said. “And whoever else I see on the way, I guess.”

“Cool, I’m Whoever then.” They walked down the street, passing houses that looked to be asleep, dark and silent. “Less people out today,” Clyde noted.

“The novelty wore off, I’m sure. By the way, do you know what time it is?”

“Nope!”

Hardly anyone Craig cared about was outside. They didn’t see Jimmy by his street, nor was Token around. He considered asking some random passerby for the time, but it wouldn’t matter at this point since they were nearly at the Tweaks’.

The door flew open before Craig’s second knock.

“There you are!” Tweek cried, and punched him in the arm. “You’re so late! Nggh… We said ‘after sunrise’!”

Craig rubbed his arm. He knew Tweek didn’t mean to hurt him, but his knuckles were bony and sharp. “I don’t have an alarm clock!”

“I think this still counts as after sunrise,” Clyde pointed out. Tweek noticed him just then and let go of Craig, looking sheepish.

“Oh. Hello, Clyde.”

“Hello!”

Tweek leaned up to press a quick kiss to Craig’s lips, apparently forgiving him already. He snatched his shoes from the hallway, shouted that he was leaving and slammed the door shut before his parents could answer. 

“What are we doing today?” he asked. He tried to pull his shoes on mid-walk and stumbled every other step, right foot only halfway inside the shoe. “Token’s again?”

Tweek and Clyde both looked to Craig. “We can try,” he allowed, “but I think his parents were starting to get tired of us yesterday.”

“You’re probably right…” Tweek sighed.

“So you don’t have work today?” Clyde asked. “How are your parents taking the whole thing?”

“Awfully! They’re just walking in circles, waiting for the power to come back on. It’s stressing me out so much!” He made a grab for his own hair, tugging it nervously. “Sundays aren’t that big of a loss I guess, but they’re really worried for Monday’s morning rush. Do you think everything will be fixed by then?”

“Surely,” Craig said, happy Tweek seemed to have gotten over Jimbo and Ned’s wacky theories. He guided Tweek’s hands away from his hair. “And we will have to go to school. Hooray.”

“I don’t think so,” Clyde said. 

Craig turned to glare at him when Tweek immediately seemed anxious again. 

“I overheard Dad talk to some of the other adults. Apparently the issue was bigger than the electrical company thought, because the guy they sent couldn’t figure it out. They’re bringing a team over on Monday, and you know how blue-collar workers are. It won’t be done before school, no way!”

“My dad’s a blue-collar worker, you asshole,” Craig bit, and Clyde cowered.

“I meant— Whatever!” He threw his hands up. “This is all coming from the Mayor, so you can trust me.”

Craig wanted to argue against him purely on principle, but he was probably right this time. Whatever had happened wouldn’t be resolved by eight am, so they were almost guaranteed an extended weekend.

Tweek had gotten his fingers tangled in his hair again. Craig took his hands in his, and kept one in his grip even after Tweek had stopped reaching for his head.

“You can stay over at my place again, if you need a break. My parents won’t mind.”

Tweek seemed relieved, his shoulders relaxing. “You sure they’ll be okay with it?”

“Promise. Mom wants to adopt you or something anyway.”

“Can I stay over too?” Clyde asked, leaning over their shoulders and getting in Craig’s face.

“Absolutely not,” Craig said. 

Tweek snickered out a, “Sorry!” and Clyde’s pout wasn’t serious, so the mood was lifted again. They ran into both Jimmy and Token eventually, and hung out by Stark’s Pond like all the other high schoolers. Craig kept an eye on the woods, unable to help himself no matter how stupid he felt. He was only looking for Stan’s uncle, he convinced himself, and not whatever he claimed to have seen out there. 

Craig could spot neither him nor his friend amidst the trees. He guessed they were at their cabin, drinking lukewarm beer and trying to drown out the disappointment of having found nothing.

When they became too hungry to stay outside any longer Craig and Tweek walked home with Clyde in tow.

“See you tomorrow, man,” Tweek said to him at his driveway.

Clyde’s smile showed his teeth. “Usually I wouldn’t be happy about it, because, ya’ know… school. But I’m excited to see your ugly mugs tomorrow—after I’ve slept in properly!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Craig warned. “Tuesday will be a regular day.”

“Don’t say that. I’ve still got hope.”

By Craig’s front door Tweek’s stomach gurgled loudly. “Whoops,” he laughed, embarrassed. 

Craig honestly wasn’t much better off, feeling starved. 

“I hope your Mom made something to eat,” Tweek said.

She was sitting in the window light by the kitchen table when they stepped inside, all the contents of the freezer spread out in front of her.

“Hi boys,” she greeted them warmly. “Sorry it’s such a mess. Can you help me?”

“Sure,” they agreed. Craig sat down opposite her.

“Get all the veg open and dump it here.” She handed him sieve inside a bowl. “Tweek, dear, can you throw this out for me?”

Tweek took the pint she handed him, sloshing with melted chocolate ice cream. “Eww,” he said and pushed the lid down more tightly.

Their freezer had finally given up, it seemed. Craig would bet Tricia had opened it when she shouldn’t have, letting the cold escape. Now they were left with a mess of thawed freezer goods, more than they could possibly eat before it spoiled. It was a sorry sight. He poured half a bag of limp broccoli florets into the sieve, and gave it a good shake, so the water dripped into the bowl.

Mom peeled the lid off a Tupperware container. Whatever was inside must’ve confused her, as she tilted the container this way and that trying to figure it out.

Without looking at him she asked, “Are you and Tweek enjoying the blackout?”

The question puzzled him. He raised an eyebrow to show he had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.

“Well, the two of you were having fun in a very loud manner the other day.”

And just like that he knew exactly what she meant. He was mortified.

“Um. Sorry,” he quickly said. It was rare that he apologized for anything, but he felt awful having subjected her to… _ that_.

Mom laughed. “It’s okay,” she assured. “I know what it’s like. Just keep it down when your sister is around, alright?”

He nodded, too flustered to say anything else. He was grateful for how coolly she took it, but vowed to never again have sex without a noise making cover-up. Otherwise Dad could be the one cornering him next time that conversation would be a million times more awkward.

Tweek returned before Craig could think of something else to say. He tried to mold his expression into his regular, stoic resting face, but it felt forced. Luckily it seemed Tweek didn’t notice. Craig was relieved to leave the topic behind.

“That’s a lot of stuff.” Tweek gestured to the bags and boxes from the freezer. “It’s really, uhm… sad.”

“We’ll see what we can save,” Mom said. She looked downtrodden. Replacing their freezer content wasn’t really in their budget, and Craig worried for what the coming weeks would be like until his parents got their next paychecks. “Dinner might be a little unusual today.”

“We heard that they’re sending someone out to fix the power tomorrow,” Tweek said, trying to cheer Mom up. “Some of this stuff can be re-frozen, right?”

“Let’s hope they do. And yes, it would be fine.” 

“Where’s Dad?” Craig asked.

“He and Tricia are setting the grill up out back. We have no choice but to cook with real fire, like cavemen,” she joked.

It didn’t sound so bad, Craig thought. On a normal day it would’ve been too cold for them to consider grilling, but the circumstances were special and close to the coals the air was distorted by heat waves and pleasantly warm. Having his whole family around him was warming too, in another way. Even Tricia was in a good mood, poking at the grill with an air of self importance, guided by Dad.

They used the food that needed to be eaten, which made the meal eccentric but still good. Flipping hamburger meat, steak and Tweek’s veggie patties on the grill soon made the whole garden smell like summer evenings. The only bread they had was regular sandwich bread, and the lettuce was wilted, but no one seemed to mind. Mom cooked the thawed vegetables on a skillet over the flames, until they browned and crisped. They all ended up eating too much, filling themselves like animals before winter. Craig could admit he enjoyed the unusual abundance of the evening.

“It’s like a harvest feast,” Tweek said, “but in reverse.”

“So literally the opposite of a harvest feast?” Craig teased.

“No, it’s still a feast. The opposite would be, like, a drought funeral.”

“Sounds like a fun time.”

“Yeah, a real party.” From his jacket Tweek pulled out the box of Aspirin. He looked at it, rubbing the pill pockets with his thumb.

“You have a headache again?” Craig asked.

Tweek nodded. “Since the day before yesterday. At first the painkillers helped a lot, but now they’re not doing much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Oh God, what if I’m dying?”

“Calm down, you’re not dying. You’re probably coming down with a cold or a fever or something. It’s been raining a lot and you never wear your jacket.”

Tweek pulled said jacket tighter around himself, as if he could retroactively prevent the sickness from seizing him by doing so. 

“How can you know?” he challenged. “People die randomly all the time, and then the autopsy shows they were infected by some rare virus! The early symptoms are deceivingly mild, and then suddenly, boom! You’re dead!”

“You have to stop watching the news. The chances of that happening are so small you’re more likely to win a million dollars in the lottery. Also, everyone always freaks out about it, and then a month later it turns out they’d been eating raw macaques in Sri Lanka or something. You haven’t been eating macaques, have you?”

Tweek still appeared conflicted, his whole body strung through with tense wire, but it was apparent he wanted to trust in Craig.

“Honey,” Craig continued, “it’s a headache, not a death sentence, I promise. Take another pill and sleep it off.”

“It’s not really like a headache, not anymore,” Tweek said. He was picking at the skin around his nails, worrying at the eponychium. “I dunno how to describe it. Like… my head is a magnet, and the polar magnet is somewhere out there, and there’s this force in between. Like my brain is pulling away from me, to go somewhere else.”

“That’s the weirdest way someone has ever described a headache.”

Tweek grimaced and tore the hangnail off. A small bead of blood bubbled out, and he stuck the finger in his mouth, sucking on it. 

“Whatever,” he said around the finger. “If it’s anything like Friday and yesterday I’ll sleep well at least. The Aspirin really knocks me out. It’s nice.”

“Maybe you should get some sleeping pills once this is over and the pharmacy opens again.”

“And end up dependent? No way man!” He inspected his nail, and for a second or two the skin stayed clean, but then the wound filled up with blood again.

Craig rolled his eyes and grabbed a napkin from across the table, wrapping it around the finger and pressing down. At least Tweek wasn’t talking about deadly viruses anymore. “Just don’t take too many. Tricia might need it if she gets a migraine. If you take them all, you’re gonna be the one telling her the bad news, and that might be more dangerous than an addiction to sleeping pills.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve barely taken any. Jesus, I’m not five.”

“I know.”

They left it at that, and spent the rest of the evening conversing quietly with Craig’s family. There was something subdued over the whole block. Though they could hear other families out in their yards, hollering and laughing, and the occasional car passing by, there was an absence of regular sounds—all the stores were closed, and the streets appeared lonely. Even the house itself was silent, as there was no humming from electricity running through the walls. No clunking from dishwashers or washing machines, no vacuums or buzzing ceiling fans, and no music and no TV.

They stayed outside until the moths woke up, and then they carried the dirty plates to the kitchen where they left the cleanup for another time. It was only eleven pm when they crawled into bed together, but like the nights before the boredom got to them. Craig could barely make out the shape of Tweek though he was less than a foot away. Only where the blankets didn’t cover his pale skin could Craig see the outline of him, ghostly and eerie in the shrouded moonlight. He fell asleep before Craig did, breathing deeply and evenly.

# 3

The peace had left Tweek by the morning. His eyes were closed when Craig opened his, but the tension behind his expression told Craig that he was awake, and in pain.

Through the window the last traces of sunrise were coloring the horizon orange. It looked like the day would be much brighter than the previous, the sky blue and cloudless as far as Craig could see. He sat up, reaching to pull the curtains closed. The room fell into darkness. Tweek grunted gratefully, and his eyes blinked open.

“I feel so bad for—” Craig coughed, trying to get the morning roughness out of his throat, “—for the guinea pigs. It’s been like two days of perpetual nighttime for them. Maybe we should move the cage over to the window?”

“Poor things,” Tweek mumbled. “They’re going to become vitamin D deficient.”

“How are you feeling today?”

Tweek groaned, and shut his eyes again. “Sleepy. The painkillers wore off at some point, and I woke up.” He smiled faintly, and added, “You were snoring something awful.”

“Was not.” Craig reached out to pinch Tweek’s arm for the comment, but pulled back after remembering that he wasn’t feeling well. “Why didn’t you take more pills?”

“You told me it would be bad.”

“I didn’t say it would be bad, I just said don’t overdo it.” He laid his hand gently on the side of Tweek’s skull, brushing the hair from his face. It had become oily, as had Craig’s, from lack of washing. “Take another and go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up later, okay?”

“Okay. Go get me some water first though.”

There was still a half full bottle on the bedside table, but Craig took pity on him and refilled it with fresh, cold water. Tweek drank it with three of the painkillers, and then rolled over to sleep.

“It will be better soon,” Craig said before he left the room. Tweek grumbled in acknowledgment, and Craig closed the door behind himself.

He shaved in the downstairs bathroom because it had a window, though it was small and fogged over. That he only nicked himself once surprised him. When he emerged Mom was sitting in the kitchen, still in her pajamas.

“You’re up early,” she commented. “I’m boiling water on the grill, if you want some tea.”

“Sure, thanks. And yeah, but it’s a school day. All we’ve been doing is sleeping, anyway.”

Mom got up and fetched two bags of Twinings green tea. “The bank was forced to stay closed today,” she said, sorrowful. “So I’ll be home too.”

“I assume you’re not getting paid for that?” Craig asked, and she shook her head. “It’s just a day, it will be fine. What about Dad? Is he working?”

“Yes, since they’re in Alma right now, and they have power. He left early, said he’d take a shower at a coworker’s.”

“Lucky. I feel gross.”

“You’re a teenage boy, you’re always gross,” she joked. Craig followed her out in the backyard, where she retrieved the boiling pot. “If it goes on we’ll have to figure something out. When my grandma was little they would heat up a big tub once every week and take turns bathing.”

“No thank you,” Craig said, dryly. He accepted the mug she handed him, and swirled the teabag around by the string, until the water was yellow.

Mom laughed. “See, we don’t have it so bad just yet. It’s all about perspective.”

“Surely it will be fixed today though? What the hell have they been doing all this time, anyway? Fondling their balls?”

She swatted at him. “Don’t be crude. I’m sure it will be over soon, but we should ask someone who knows. Can’t you boys see if you can find out what’s happening?”

“Why don’t you go? You said it, you don’t have any work.”

“Craig, I have twice as much work as usual. I need to wash dishes and do laundry, and all by hand in cold water. Bothering our neighbors is the least you can do to help.”

“Fine, alright,” he said. “Tweek’s sleeping though.”

He left on his own after finishing the tea with some rice crackers. It felt very peasant-like, and he fantasized about being a farmer’s boy heading out on a simple errand, unknowing that he was walking into something much greater than he ever could’ve imagined, like he was the protagonist of a movie.

Clyde wasn’t loitering around the block for once. Craig threw pebbles against his bedroom window, and didn’t have to wait long Clyde’s bed-head to appear. It didn’t take long until he was dashing down the stairs loud enough that his steps could be heard through the front door.

“Where to, Boss?” he asked. “Where’s Tweek, by the way?”

“Sleeping. And we’re gonna figure out when shit will be back to normal.” Craig led the way towards the west end of town, where the electrical substation was. “I thought you were sleeping in today?”

“I was gonna, but I went to bed early. I thought school being cancelled would be sweet, but everything’s so fucking boring.”

“Tell me about it,” Craig agreed.

“I can barely even use my data. What’s up with that?”

“Dunno. The blackout killed the cell tower too I guess.”

“Dad has one of those portable radios, but he couldn’t get any of the frequencies to work. It was all just noise. Isn’t that weird?”

Craig shrugged. He didn’t know how any of that shit worked. That’s why they were trekking so far now—to get information.

He looked around for anyone who looked like they’d be in the know. There were people milling about, entering their cars and driving off for work in adjacent towns. Two blocks over Clyde tugged at his jacket, and pointed to a group of people standing in the middle of the street, communicating in angry tones and sharp movements. _ Jackpot_, Craig thought, and walked over.

“—forced to stay closed for three days!” spat Lu Kim, gesticulating wildly. “My backup generator got fried!”

Craig slipped into the circle, glad he was already taller than most of the adults—he didn’t feel like an intruding brat. “What’s going on?”

Mrs. Marsh sighed. “It looks like a bigger problem than they expected. Some of us went out to meet the people from the electrical company, and they seemed baffled.”

A man Craig recognized as the cashier at Whole Foods spoke up. “They don’t even know what’s wrong. Said they’d never seen anything like it.”

“They say it can take over a week to fix!” Mr. Stotch cried, and the other adults echoed his anger.

Craig extracted himself from the group, glad he didn’t have to walk all the way over to the substation to talk to someone. He wasn’t happy about what he had learned, though. They weren’t prepared for something like this, and he needed to go home and tell Mom as quickly as possible so they could make plans for the week.

“Look!” Clyde said, tugging at Craig’s sleeve again. “Isn’t that Token’s Mercedes?”

It was. The silver car crept down the street towards them. Clyde jumped out onto the road and waved his arms, and Craig grabbed him by the back of his collar, pulling him back on the sidewalk.

“Watch out, idiot,” he hissed.

The car had stopped by the curb and Token stepped out from the backseat.

“Where are you going?” Clyde asked. The car was stuffed with bags, like they were heading on vacation.

“We’re checking into a hotel in Denver until this is over,” Token explained. “Didn’t you hear? It’s bad.”

“We did,” Craig said. “But we’re not leaving town just because the TV doesn’t work.”

Token crossed his arms, looking angry in that way he did when people suggested he was spoiled. “It’s not just the TV, dude, it’s everything. And the water tower will run dry eventually, because they can’t pump more into it. What will you do then? Honestly, we’re doing you guys a favor by removing ourselves. More resources for you.”

Clyde pouted. “But we should be sticking together! It’s no fun if everyone leaves.”

“It’s already not fun, Clyde,” Token said. The Mercedes honked, and they all jumped. “You should take off too, if you can. You guys are starting to smell.”

“We’re not!” Clyde whined, but Token had gotten into the car and slammed the door.

He lowered the window. “See you soon, guys! Tell Tweek and Jimmy bye from me.”

The Blacks drove off. Clyde slumped, like a deflating balloon.

“Man, this is becoming more and more of a disappointment by the day. No Token! Where will we hang out now?”

“‘You should leave too,’” Craig aped. “Does he think we can all afford to check into hotels all willy-nilly? What an asshole.”

“Hey now, he didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever. Let’s go back.”

They trudged back home, kicking at rocks and garbage. Someone had broken a streetlamp. The glass was shattered all over the sidewalk, forcing them to step around it and into the street. Everything was dreary, as if all the life had been sucked out of town alongside with the electricity.

“Oh no!” Mom exclaimed when they told her the news. “Are you sure?”

Craig shrugged, apologetic. “That’s what they said. And Token’s family peaced out, so it should be legit.”

She sighed deeply, but put on a determined face. “Then we better get ourselves as ready as we can get,” she said. Her practical attitude made Craig proud, and he viewed it as his most useful inherited trait. “We need to go shopping, preferably before everyone else does too.”

“Should I wake Tweek?”

“If you think he wants to come. What about you Clyde, are you coming? There will be room in the car—Tricia left earlier.”

Clyde shook his head. “I need to give my dad the update too. Maybe we’ll meet you at the store though.”

After Clyde had left Craig went upstairs, coming to a stop outside his bedroom door. He hesitated. Maybe it would be better to let Tweek rest? But if Tweek woke up and they were all gone he’d freak out, and with no way to contact them he might go into a panic or something. Craig could leave a note, but Tweek, in his frenzies, tended to miss out on obvious things like that. 

Craig pushed on the door, gently. “Honey? Are you feeling better?”

A groan was the only answer he got. He pushed the door open all the way, and stepped into the darkness. The guinea pigs squealed warily. Tweek had closed the window at some point, and the air was stuffy. From the little light that slipped in from the hallway Craig could see that he’d bundled himself up in the covers in the corner of the bed, curled up on his side making himself as small as he could possibly be.

Owlish eyes blinked at Craig when he sat on the floor in front of the bed.

“Hey,” Craig whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, but we just learned that shit’s more fucked than we thought. Mom and I are going to the store to pick up some supplies, and I wanted you to know where we were. Do you want to come too?”

The covers moved, and Tweek’s full face appeared. Craig saw the shadow of a pillow crease on his cheek and smiled, taken aback by how soft he seemed. He’d feared Tweek would look like death, but mostly he seemed confused. As if he didn’t quite know where he was or why. Craig wondered where his mind had gone to this time.

“Okay,” Tweek mumbled. “Ngh— Give me a moment.”

“You sure?” Craig asked, scooting back to give him room. “You can sleep more, if you want to.”

Tweek’s legs slid out from the sheets. He shook his head and said, “I couldn’t sleep at all, so might as well get up.” He placed his feet on the floor, gingerly, and something caught Craig’s eye.

“What’s that?” he asked, grabbing the foot and holding it up, trying to make the light hit it in a way where he could see. Tweek yelped, almost losing his balance. “Did you pick at your skin?”

The toes were stained dark, most obviously around the big toe where a chunk of the nail was torn off. The blood flaked under Craig’s finger. He could feel the raw edges of a wound on the bottom of the heel too. Had Tweek slept at all, or did he just lay there poking at himself?

“We were walking so much these past days!” Tweek said, defensively. “I got a blister. You know I can’t leave them alone.”

“And what about the nail, then?” Craig asked. He let go of Tweek. “You’re a bigger mess than usual. I’m sure you got blood all over my sheets too.”

Tweek stood, steady as a newborn. “Sorry. It was probably time to change them?” he said, uncertain and apologetic.

“It’s fine, I don’t care about the sheets. But don’t be all gross, alright?” 

Tweek nodded and Craig accepted that as the end of the conversation, though he would bet it would not stop Tweek from picking at his skin. But what Tweek could and could not do wasn’t for Craig to say. 

He changed the topic. “Why’d you shut the window? It’s all stinky in here now.”

Tweek gathered up his clothing. His movements were slow and sluggish, but he got himself dressed. 

“The magnet,” he said, trying to figure out the buttons on his shirt, “it was pulling me out there. It was fucking freaky, man! But closing the window helped, a little.”

“What? I thought the magnet thing was a metaphor.”

“It was! This is part of it.”

“You’re making zero sense, honey.”

Tweek gave up halfway down the shirt. “Whatever! You never listen to me,” he said, the cut of his tone telling Craig he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

Craig heard his wish, and reluctantly minded it. He did not offer to fix the buttons for him. He hated when Tweek walked in circles around what he meant, expecting Craig to somehow decode the nonsense he said. In those situations it was impossible for Craig to help him.

They piled into Mom’s run down compact. Tweek was quiet for the ride, lost in thought or in pain. Mom talked enough for the three of them—listing the things they would buy, things they might need, and drawing up a plan for the following week or weeks. Craig was glad she took charge, unlike Dad, who tended to mope. 

It was noon when they reached the adjacent town. The grocery store parking lot was decently crowded, unusually so for this hour on a Monday. Craig wondered if the employees could tell which customers were pilgrims from South Park. Did they look different from other people? Maybe a little unkempt and weary? Tweek hadn’t shaved at all, and the sparse, pale wisps on his cheek were an embarrassment, but he seemed so miserable that Craig couldn’t bring himself to pick on him for it. The further they got from their hometown, the more strained his features became.

He looked much worse under the fluorescent lightning of the store than in the forgiving shadows of Craig’s bedroom. If Mom’s thoughts hadn’t been elsewhere she would’ve noticed something was wrong, but as it was she buzzed cluelessly through the isles, ordering them to fetch this and that.

“Got you something,” Craig said.

Tweek was leaning on their shopping cart, using it as a walker. He blinked stupidly at the tub of Folgers instant coffee until Craig shook it a few times. Tweek snapped out of it, making a face.

“That’s so disgusting,” he said. “But put it in the cart.”

Craig looked for Mom, but the coast was clear. “Babe, be truthful with me. Are you about to faint or something?”

“No!” he exclaimed, then thought about it. “I don’t think so?”

“We’ll be home soon and you can go back to bed.”

Craig could see Tweek suck on his teeth, his lips bulging over his tongue. “The Aspirin doesn’t help anymore, I’m not gonna be able to sleep,” he said.

“Are you overreacting or is this actually serious?”

“I don’t know! I don’t understand anything! It feels all wrong but I know you will think it’s nothing.” His pupils flickered all over the place, spooked and uncertain. “I’m scared.” 

The store was humming with people. Tweek seemed to have lost his sense of spatial awareness—Craig pulled him and the cart to the side of the isle to let a woman pass when he only stood there blocking the way while she looked more and more annoyed. 

“Why?” Craig glanced around again, but no one was paying them any attention. He stepped closer to Tweek, so they could have a modicum of privacy, and so Craig could better read the subtle tells of his expressions. “Talk to me.”

Tweek’s fingers were restless, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and poking through the empty button holes.

“Craig,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, “what if we’re insignificant?”

Craig almost laughed. What kind of fake-deep shit was this?

“In relation to the vast infinity of space, yeah, we’re pretty fucking insignificant.”

Tweek didn’t pick up on his tone. “Yes! Exactly! Craig, I’m— I’ve been—” 

Craig waited for him as he struggled to find the words. He was trembling, like he often did when nervous. It reminded Craig of when he took his pets to the veterinarian and how they would quake under her hands, eyes huge and shiny with fear. 

Tweek said, “I’ve been hearing a call, Craig. And I know it’s not real, but what if it is? It feels real. As real as this cart and this gross-ass coffee, more real than this fucking store and the people here for sure.”

“Have you been smoking pot or something behind my back?”

“I’m sure this is funny as hell to you,” Tweek snarled. Craig felt like an asshole. “Something’s wrong, and I— I need a doctor, something, please.”

“It’s not funny at all,” Craig said. He put a hand to Tweek’s forehead. It was warm, and his skin was clammy. “I think you’ve been coming down with something, Honey. But no one is calling for you, okay? Have you been hallucinating?”

Tweek frowned, and said, “I don’t know.”

“When Tricia gets her migraines weird shit happens, like she’ll start seeing and hearing things that aren’t there. It’s called auras. It’s not dangerous.” Craig wanted his phone so he could properly play doctor. “But if you’re so scared Mom will drop you off at home so your parents can take you to the hospital or something.”

Tweek nodded, seeming hesitantly grateful. They didn’t get the chance to say more on the topic as Mom came back, arms laden with two value packs of bottled water. They paid and loaded up the car with the supplies, Craig snatching the heavier of the bags before Mom could give them to Tweek. The tin cans within rattled against each other. He noticed Tweek wince at the sound, his jaw clenching.

Dropping Tweek off with his parents didn’t feel right, but that was the possessive and resentful side of Craig’s brain acting up. The adult Tweaks were less than stellar, but Craig was good at ignoring his impulses and knew logically that they were the ones who had to take care of Tweek now, not him.

“You’ll be okay,” Craig whispered to Tweek on the curb outside his house. He tried to infuse the words with all the confidence and certainty he had. Sounding unafraid was the best he could do to soothe Tweek right now. “Call me— Or, no. Uh, come over and tell me how it went as soon as possible. Or make your mom do it.”

“I will,” he promised. He kissed Craig dryly on the chin, like he couldn’t muster the energy to find his mouth properly. “See you.”

At home Craig and Mom played _ Rummikub _long into the night. It was the most boring game in the world, but the hours passed by slowly, until at last he finally felt tired enough to sleep. He wondered how Tweek was feeling now, wondered if he wished they were sharing a bed too, like Craig did.

# 4

When he woke up the next morning he was still longing for Tweek—the boner tenting his underwear wouldn’t allow him to forget. Craig sighed, not really in the mood, but took himself in hand anyway. Better to get it over with. 

He let his mind wander as he toyed with his cock, searching for a fantasy or a memory that would get him off. No matter how much Craig wanted Tweek at all times he couldn’t bring himself to wish he was actually there right then to give Craig a helping hand or mouth. He could only picture Tweek as he was yesterday: sick and listless. Thinking of Tweek being ill in Craig’s bedroom made beating off uncomfortable. Instead he recalled memories outside his own house, to places where him and Tweek never should have done it at. It felt less claustrophobic.

He thought of the time Tweek dragged him boldly into the backroom of Tweek Bros. Coffee during a lull. Tweek had been alert and assertive—the opposite of how he was in the now. He had rutted against Craig’s leg, whining and growling, and Craig had been too caught off guard to do anything but follow along. 

Some precome leaked from his cock at the memory. He smeared it around, using it in lieu of lotion to slick himself so that he could tug more vigorously.

He thought of Tweek kneeling on the filthy floor of the school toilets, sucking Craig off while their oblivious classmates played dodge ball in the gym. Craig had tried to restrain himself but Tweek had told him between mouthfuls to let go, don’t hold back, use me, _ please_. When Craig grabbed fistfuls of his hair Tweek moaned, the spit bubbling from his lips. Craig hadn’t lasted. Tweek spit the semen in one of the sinks with a grimace, but had later confessed he wished he had swallowed.

Craig felt himself nearing the edge. In his ears his pulse was rushing, whitewater loud as it pumped the warm blood throughout his body. He reached down to grope at his testicles, sighing—

—The back of Mom’s compact, the steam from their sweaty bodies fogging up the windows in the winter cold. Tweek had slammed his head against the roof when he rode Craig too hard, and they had laughed about it until Tweek was erect again. With the stars twinkling outside the windows it felt as if the car was floating freely through space, the two of them disconnected from the rest of mankind and all the earthly bullshit that came with being a human. But mostly it was doing it in a car that turned Craig on.

He got jizz on his t-shirt. Groaning to himself he tossed it into a corner to be dealt with later. Unlike sex with another person the aftermath of jacking off was always dissatisfying, leaving him feeling vaguely gross and dirty. 

But he supposed he had little else to look forward to with Tweek gone for however many days. Without their phones there was no way for Tweek to communicate if he would be back today, tomorrow, or in a week. Sitting with his thumb up his asshole waiting for him to show up at the door would drive Craig insane, so he hurriedly cleaned himself off with the wet wipes they’d bought at the store the other day, sprayed air freshener on his clothes, gulped down a bowl of cereal with soy milk (it wasn’t quite right—neither in taste nor temperature—but at least it didn’t need to be refrigerated) and ran out the door to find Clyde.

Clyde had managed to get the start of a real beard going. The effect was very hobo-like, and Craig wondered why he didn’t shave it. It was one of the few things they _ could _still do.

“Because I look fucking sexy, that’s why,” Clyde explained without a trace of sarcasm. “It makes me seem more mature. Girls love a mature guy.”

“It makes you seem like something, alright.”

“C’mon, you’d bang me.”

“I would absolutely not.”

“Well, you’re not my target demographic anyway, so your opinion doesn’t matter.”

They walked aimlessly down the block, with no plan of where to go or what to do. The boredom, Craig thought, was worse than anything else during the blackout. He could live without showering, could live on pre-boiled rice and canned beans, could live with the constant darkness. But he felt lost without his phone, his computer, his Xbox. It was embarrassing, really.

The ideal way to treat boredom during a blackout would have been sex. Had things been normal Craig figured him and Tweek would have been at it all day long by now, alternating between resting and fucking until they were tired enough to rest again. Rinse and repeat.

But things weren’t normal; Tweek was sick, and even if Craig thought he’d be up for it—which he sincerely doubted—he was also out of town.

Craig and Clyde ended up by the elementary school. On the basketball court Stan, Kenny and David were shooting hoops without much enthusiasm. Craig hadn’t talked to any of his classmates beyond his own little clique since Friday, and wasn’t thrilled to do so now, but Clyde walked up to them and for once Craig allowed it. It was a sign of desperate times that he was bored enough to risk interacting with Stan’s group, but at least Cartman wasn’t there. Small mercies.

“What’s going on with your face, dude?” Stan asked when he saw them.

Clyde drew his shoulders up, self-consciously. “Nothing, just didn’t want to waste the water shaving.”

Kenny and David laughed. “You look homeless,” Kenny said, which was rich coming from someone with at least five differently colored patches on his jacket.

Clyde frowned, about to say something, but David passed the ball to him and all was forgiven.

By the corner of the court Stan pulled a water bottle from underneath a pile of jackets. He eyed Craig suspiciously when he got near; even the way he chugged the water reeked of distrust. Craig thought that was a bit overkill. They hadn’t had a fistfight in like, well over a year.

“Where’s the rest of your posse?” Craig asked him.

The loud smack of Stan’s lips releasing from the bottle’s rim made Craig cringe.

“Left town for now. I wish we would too but Dad’s being fucking stupid. He’s like, living out some kinda apocalypse fantasy or something. Mom’s doing her best to stop him from looting the shops.” He caught the ball as it was passed to him and dribbled it absentmindedly between his feet. “What about yours?”

“Token left, obviously. Jimmy’s somewhere around though.”

“Oh!” Clyde cut in. “You didn’t know? Jimmy’s family left yesterday too. It’s just you and me and Tweek now.”

It pissed Craig off that he hadn’t been told. Usually, they all ran things by him first. But he’d been gone all day and there was no texting, and basically everything sucked.

“Tweek’s not in town either,” Craig said.

Stan passed him the ball, putting too much force behind it. Craig caught it, gracelessly.

“And you’re like, okay with that?” Stan asked, dubious. “You’re sure you’re not gonna implode from being away from your boyfriend for more than a few hours?”

“I dunno. Are you okay with being apart from _ your _boyfriend?”

Stan sputtered, and fumbled the ball when Craig threw it back at him. 

“You’re so funny, dude,” Stan said in a voice that meant, _ you’re not_. 

Craig grinned.

Stan took a shot at the hoop and missed. The ball hit the rim, bouncing over the fencing and out into the playground. Clyde went after it at a jog.

Craig turned back to Stan. “So, did your uncle find the Russians or whatever in the woods?”

“Jimbo? Uh.” He struggled for a few seconds to grasp what Craig was referring to. “Oh! He was rambling about looking for something. Is that what they were doing? Going after Russians?”

“I don’t remember, but it was something stupid, yeah.”

“Mom got pissed at them for not helping out more at home and forced them to stay over. With Dad’s being such a useless R-tard and everything she needs the help.”

Craig could imagine Mrs. Marsh was having a rough time with the unfortunate family she’d foolishly married into. He pressed further. “Well? Did they find anything?”

“Why are you even asking, dude?” 

Stan squinted at him, trying to figure him out. Jokes on him, Craig didn’t even know why he asked himself.

“I don’t think so,” Stan said. “There’s no way they would’ve kept quiet about it if they did.”

Something erased from Craig’s shoulders at hearing this, and he felt like an idiot because of it. He only wanted to know so he could tell Tweek how full of shit Jimbo and Ned had been, he told himself. It would calm Tweek down, and maybe he’d stop babbling about magnets and crap. Craig knew that if you thought you were ill, you could conjure up symptoms even if you were actually perfectly healthy. The human mind was weirdly powerful like that. Craig suspected Tweek had unknowingly caused his own condition. It would not be the first time.

The schoolyard became their hangout for the rest of the morning and deep into the afternoon. When they tired of the basket court they climbed on the monkey bars and spun each other on the carousel, and when they’d exhausted everything else they sat on the swingset, swaying sadly back and forth, consumed by boredom. 

“I’m going home soon,” David announced. “I’m hungry.”

They all mumbled in agreement. Craig dug the heel of his sneaker into the sand. He’d gotten a good trench going over the past hour, and would surely make it all the way to China before the week’s end.

“Hey,” Clyde said, hitting him on the shoulder. “Isn’t that Tweek’s car?”

Craig raised his arm, intending to pummel Clyde with for hitting him, but paused. Sure enough, on the street the Tweaks’ gray Toyota sped by. Were they leaving now? It was already too late to wave; the car had rounded the corner.

“I thought you said they’d already left,” Stan said.

Craig shrugged. “They were on their way.” He stood, straightening his back with a pop. “Weren’t we going home? Let’s go.”

Clyde trotted behind him, loyal as a Golden Retriever. Now he was all Craig had for the next whoever knew how many days. The thought saddened him, not because there was anything wrong with Clyde, but because he’d miss Tweek. It took seeing their car disappear down the street for him to realize as much.

He and Clyde parted ways outside Clyde’s house. As Craig walked the last few feet home he thought about what he’d do once he got there. Eat, first of all, because he was starving. It was hard to make plans beyond that. He would bet Mom had been inside all day, bored and lonely. Maybe he’d convince her to go on a walk with him, though at this point he was sick and tired of meandering every day.

He forgot all about this when he stepped into the hallway. There, on the floor, lay Tweek’s rugged sneakers.

“Mom?” he called. “Is Tweek here?”

From the bathroom she answered, “Yes. His parents dropped him off a little while ago.”

She was doing laundry in the bathtub when Craig peered inside. It was a bizarre scene: in the light of a flashlight she was stomping around in the tub, trampling and squashing all the clothes with her feet. 

She shone the light on him, and he had to close his eyes from the brightness. “My arms were getting tired,” she explained without prompting.

Craig was glad he hadn’t tossed his spunk-shirt in the hamper. The thought of her stepping on it made him cringe.

“Get that away from me,” he said. She directed the beam back to the tub. “Why is he here?”

“Why would he not be here?” she asked. “I sent him to your room. He was looking a little sick.”

_ No shit_, Craig wanted to say. But he was the one who had kept her in the dark. 

“I heated some soup for him, make sure he eats it. Poor thing. His parents don’t take care of him, it’s no wonder he comes here. Sometimes I get so angry when I think about it.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know they’re practically your in-laws by now, and I shouldn’t say stuff like that about them.”

“It’s fine. They’re pretty shitty,” Craig agreed. “I’m going to check on him.”

“Do that,” she said. 

He left her to her work, feeling momentarily bad for letting her do it all on her own. Right now he had bigger concerns, though. Craig’s bedroom door was ajar, and he pushed it open. Tweek was lying curled on the bed, like he had done a few days ago. But this time the covers were down and the window was open, like he was no longer trying to shield himself from the forces outside. By the afternoon light Craig could tell that he was still sticky and pale.

“Hey,” Craig said, softly. 

Tweek’s eyes opened, partly, and he sluggishly raised his head. 

“I saw your parents’ car and thought they were taking you to the hospital. Why are you here?”

“Hi,” Tweek returned, quieter than a mouse. “They’re gonna stay with relatives in Shawnee. The store can’t be opened.”

“And they left you here?”

“I asked them to.” His head hit the bed again, tired, but his eyes stayed open. “The doctor said it’s a fever, and that I should just rest.”

“Did you tell him about the hallucinations or whatever?”

“I think so? I wasn’t the one making the call.”

Craig signed. The Tweaks were useless. “Mom’s all upset now. You’ll have to deal with her fussing if you stay.”

“It’s a little late to go now.” He smiled. “I don’t mind, anyway. Laura’s nice.”

On the bedside table sat the bowl of soup, as well as a few wheat crackers and a glass of water. Craig’s stomach rumbled, and he was once again reminded of his hunger.

“Why haven’t you eaten?” he asked.

“I did! A little. As much as I could.” 

Craig’s stomach gurgled again, and Tweek let out a soft giggle. 

“You can have the rest,” he said.

It was only canned vegetable soup, gross and unfilling, but it sated Craig well enough for the time. He’d bring Tweek a nibble of something else later. He sat on the edge on the bed, eating and listening to Tweek breathing.

“I saw Stan today,” he said to break the silence. 

Tweek grunted, maybe upset to be disturbed. 

Craig went on, “Jimbo and Ned didn’t find anything in the woods, he said. Big surprise, right?”

“They weren’t looking hard enough, then,” Tweek said. He sounded certain, like he knew something Craig did not.

“How so? Did you go out there?”

“No. But I told you, I can feel it.”

Craig was getting fed up with his vagueness. “I don’t understand what you mean by that. Is ‘it’ what you’re convinced is calling for you?”

“Yeah. It’s like…” Tweek started. His hand unconsciously strayed towards his foot, poking at the scab from his torn off toenail. “You know how sailors are sailing, doing their thing, and then suddenly comes a group of sirens and they flash their boobs so convincingly that the sailors forget all about where they were heading because siren tits are obviously much more important?”

“That’s your worst metaphor yet,” Craig said. He took Tweek’s hand, and laid it back on the sheet by his ribcage. “You’re gay, you don’t even like tits.”

“Okay, let’s say they flashed their huge dongs then.”

Craig couldn’t help but laugh, and Tweek gave a gentle smile too. If Tweek still had his humor, things couldn’t be so bad, right?

Craig put the empty bowl away. Feeling more tender than usual towards Tweek, he brushed the hair from his forehead and leaned down, planting a kiss on his temple. Tweek smelled bad, stale and sweaty, and Craig guessed it was equal parts due to the many days without a proper shower as it was the sickness. 

“Let’s wash up a little,“ Craig suggested. “You’ll feel better.”

Tweek didn’t seem stoked about it, but he agreed without argument. Downstairs the bathroom was empty again, and the clothes gone. Through the living room windows they saw Mom out in the yard, pinning washed underwear and dresses to a clothesline strung between the gutter downpipe and the pitiful blue spruce in one end of the garden.

Inside the locked bathroom Craig lit candles on the sink. It looked faintly like the setup for a sex scene in a romcom, but the cold water was anything but romantic. He made Tweek pull his shirt off, but left him in his pants to help keep him warm.

“Lean over the tub,” Craig said.

Tweek braced himself against the lip of the bathtub, leaning forward until his hair hung over his face. Craig blasted him with the shower head until the hair was soaked. Goosebumps broke out all over Tweek’s arms, and Craig watched him shiver and shake.

“So, you’re being unusually calm about all this,” Craig noted. He squeezed a glob of shampoo directly on Tweek’s scalp and lathered it. “What changed since yesterday?”

Craig had hoped that Tweek would enjoy a massage, but the noises he made were decidedly unhappy, so Craig hurried.

“I was scared! I still am, honestly. But… now I think I don’t have to be.”

Craig rinsed out the shampoo, and rubbed conditioner into his hair. “How so?”

“What’s calling for me, it’s— They’re not malicious. They only want to communicate. They want a messenger or, or— An ambassador.”

This was taking a weird turn, but Tweek sounded wholly convinced it was true. Craig suspected it would be pointless to argue with him, like trying to explain to his demented grandmother he was her grandson and not her brother who had miraculously de-aged sixty years and come back to life. Sometimes it was better to play along. And there was an undeniable part of Craig that was terribly, terribly curious.

“The sirens?” he prompted when Tweek didn’t say anything else.

“_ Gnh— _ We can call them that.”

When the conditioner had been washed away Craig toweled Tweek’s hair. “What are they really then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do they talk to you or something?”

“No— Kind of?” He let out one of his many noises, a nervous one that told Craig he wasn’t fully confident about what he was saying. “It’s a one-way transmission. I’m given information, but it’s not like we’re chatting.”

Craig motioned for him to sit on the toilet lid. He did, huddling in his towel, as Craig got shaving cream and a razor from the cupboard.

“What do they tell you?” he asked. 

In the dimness he relied on his fingers to map out Tweek’s face. Where the stubble scratched him he shaved, carefully and oh-so slowly. It felt wrong doing these things for Tweek, as if he was some sort of invalid, but leaving him rugged and smelly wasn’t right either.

“That I wasn’t chosen, personally, but they found me the most suited out of everyone here.” His breath hitched when Craig ran the razor under his chin, where his skin was thin and vulnerable. “Don’t nick me, please. I’ll bleed out and die.”

“I’m being careful. Why are you suitable?”

Tweek didn’t speak again until Craig was finished with his throat, not moving a muscle. When Craig put the razor away he breathed out.

“I don’t know why. But if you were looking for someone to believe in something impossible, wouldn’t you pick me too?”

“There are many people just as impressionable as you are in this town,” Craig pointed out, thinking of Jimbo and Ned and Clyde.

“They’re stupid though.”

Craig laughed. “That’s true.”

He redid the whole routine on himself, washing his hair and shaving. It was cold and unpleasant and though the itchiness in his scalp washed away with the shampoo, the feeling of general wrongness couldn’t be rinsed out like he had hoped. The situation had somehow turned stranger since they left the bedroom.

They headed back upstairs. Cleanliness made Tweek look better, but not good. He laid himself carefully on the bed as soon as they made it into the room, his face melting in relief against the pillow. He rose only to put on a new shirt, which Craig handed to him, then flopped back down again.

“Sleep,” Craig ordered. 

Tweek made a pained noise, and shook his head. 

“Try, at least?”

Tweek made no promises. “Stay?” he asked. 

Craig did, sitting quietly on the mattress. Tweek lay just as quiet, not sleeping, thinking of whatever it was he had going on in his head.

Craig too was thinking. He didn’t often find himself struggling to make sense of things, but now his mind felt like a microwave trying to run a Triple-A game. He wasn’t getting anywhere.

Tweek was sick with something. Craig already knew since before, but now it had taken a new, bizarre turn. It was the combination of the physical unwellness and the outlandish things he was saying that put Craig off. He was used to dealing with Tweek whining through the flu, certain he’d die from it, and he was also used to hearing him ramble long, totally bananas hypotheses about the secret workings of the world—but not both at the same time. Craig thought he knew Tweek and his weirdness well, but this here was _ terra incognita_.

Time passed slowly, and after Craig didn’t know how long he heard Dad return home, then Tricia, and then Mom called him for dinner. He left only to bring back food, though Tweek didn’t touch it.

When Craig crawled into bed it couldn’t have been more than eight pm, but he felt drained like never before. He didn’t know what to do with Tweek. 

Craig guessed Tweek had allowed the illness and the migraines to possess him, let himself be carried away in fever dreams and fantasy and crazy-person talk. If so he would be back to normal when the sickness passed and could no longer feed his paranoia. But Craig couldn’t be sure.

If the doctor had already turned him away, it meant he thought Tweek was fine and the sickness would pass eventually. Craig found it hard to buy that judgement though. He didn’t trust that the Tweaks had made enough of an effort explaining Tweek’s symptoms, nor did he think Tweek had actually told them just how bad he was.

“I lied,” Tweek whispered countless hours later.

Craig was floating between wakefulness and sleep at that point, and he grunted groggily in question.

“I knew more,” Tweek hissed. Craig almost couldn’t hear him. “They aren’t sirens—they’re from space. They’re aliens.”

Craig decided he was dreaming.

# 5

On the fifth day of the blackout Tweek did not get out of bed at all. No matter how much Craig pestered him he would not even get up to piss, which was worrying because Tweek was someone who ran to the bathroom constantly because of all the coffee he drank—although now he also refused to drink coffee, and this was almost even more worrisome.

But it was for the best, maybe, because that day the water stopped running. Mom emptied all that was left in the taps into buckets, and Craig was glad they had thought to buy bottled water, because now this was all they had. Collecting water from Stark’s Pond didn’t sound safe, no matter how long they boiled it. Craig knew how much garbage people dumped in there, since he’d helped Dad give offerings of old furniture and broken electronics to the lake bottom in the night when Dad couldn’t be assed to drive down to the dump like Mom told him to. Everyone else did it too, he told Craig, and later Craig and Clyde didn’t hesitate to add Butters’ bike to the sunken junkyard.

“Surely they will send aid if it goes on for much longer,” Mom said.

Craig was sweeping the floor while she folded the laundry that had hung to dry overnight. A somber silence lay over them as they went about the housework. It was just the two of them home, Dad at work and Tricia thrown out after she spent an hour bitching and moaning and throwing a hormonal fit about how much she hated everything. 

Tweek was also there, of course, but he could barely be counted as present. He hadn’t divulged any more of his strange delusions, but he hadn’t said much of anything else either. All throughout the morning he’d been quiet. Craig had wet-wiped the sweat from his face, cleaned under his arms, and left him a breakfast he did not touch. After that Craig didn’t know what else to do for him, besides allow him rest.

“You should go out and ask the neighbors,” Craig suggested. Mom had barely left their property, as if the house would fall apart if she abandoned it for just an hour.

“I will,” she said, “after I figure out the bills. Lord knows the debt collectors come whether you’re able to work or not.”

“At least electricity will be cheap this month.”

She hummed in agreement. Her voice was blue when she said, “I hope it’s over soon. I’m going stir-crazy here.”

Craig was hit with a rare sting of sympathy towards her. It had taken a lot out of her to keep the household together, to cook and clean and organize, when everything was out of the ordinary. He knew she considered it her life’s purpose to be a mom, and he saw how sullen she’d become not being able to work or provide for them as she wanted to. 

Somehow, in her low, she had also become more reachable to him. He felt connected to her in a way he had not done since he was very little and still crawled into her bed at night when he had nightmares. Yet, contradictory, the reason he felt this close to her was because she confided in him openly and honestly, like a fellow adult. 

She wasn’t just a mom-machine, a person who nagged him to vacuum and to open a window and air out his stuffy room—she was _ his mom _and he appreciated all she had done for him. She had raised him to this point and he felt it was now his duty to return all the care and protection and more. 

He did something he also hadn’t done since he was little: he hugged her.

She didn’t hesitate when she squeezed him back. He was taller than her, his nose resting in her hair. When had that happened? Last time she held him she had nearly smothered him in the folds of her skirt. 

He let go before he started to cry or something equally stupid. Maybe she sensed his vulnerability, because she didn’t make any comment on his unusual behavior.

“Go take out the trash,” was all she said. He was grateful she didn’t embarrass him.

Outside on the lawn the air felt easier to breathe, and Craig collected himself. He was slapping the lid back on the recycling bin when his name was called.

“Bro! Where were you all day?” Clyde gave him a crestfallen look, as if Craig had hurt him terribly.

“All day? It’s only noon.” 

Or so he guessed; the sun was at its zenith, high above them in the sky.

“So? What were you doing until now?”

Clyde still thought Tweek had left. Craig didn’t fill him in. It would require explaining a lot of things that he didn’t feel like getting into.

“I was helping Mom with the house,” he said instead. It was true, though Craig probably would have snuck out if Tweek’s presence didn’t compel him to stay close to the den.

“Well, can Wittle Craigy come out and play now?”

“‘Wittle Craigy’ can throw you into this dumpster if you’d like.”

He chased Clyde down the block, Clyde howling with laughter all the way. It felt good. When Craig caught him, he gave him a noogie until he begged for mercy. 

“We can hang out for a little bit,” Craig panted as they caught their breath. He needed a break from the gloom and doom of indoors. Clyde, who was uncomplicated and cheerful, was exactly who Craig needed.

“Sweet.”

“So,” Craig said, leading them back up the road, “what did you do all morning without me? Cry?”

Clyde snorted. “As if. You’re not that important to me, sorry. I actually ran into Kenny. They’re doing really poorly, apparently. No pun intended.”

It was no surprise that the blackout meant huge trouble for the McCormicks, but Craig hadn’t put much consideration into families other than his own before then.

“And was Kenny a good substitute for me?”

“Yes, he was awesome. I’m ready to replace you with him as my best friend.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Clyde grinned. “Maybe not! But your head is big enough already, the truth would only inflate it more. You could get hurt. Really, I’m looking out for you.” 

They turned onto a new street, leaving their block behind. 

Clyde said, “We went eavesdropping around the substation. Apparently Kenny and Stan had done it before, and he knew all the good pines to hide behind. It was a real adventure.”

“Did you learn something?”

“Not really. Everyone seems really confused, but we knew that already. They were all arguing, trying to figure it out, but—nada!”

“I don’t get it. How fucking hard can it be? They have all kinds of technology to troubleshoot everything with.”

“They said nothing seemed wrong. That the power was making it there, and then just… died off. For no reason. Like there’s something in the air, sucking it in or knocking it out. Same with the phones and stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound real.”

Clyde shrugged. “It’s what they said.”

“Then it seems things will stay like this for a while.”

“Yeah.” 

Clyde had something else on his tongue, but didn’t let it out. Craig saw him open his mouth, think better of it, and close it again. 

Finally Craig had enough. “What?” he demanded.

“How much longer do you think your family will stay here?” 

“For as long as we need, I guess. Why? Are you leaving?”

“Maybe.”

Clyde didn’t look Craig in the eyes, as if he was ashamed of himself. _ Dog_, Craig thought again. 

Clyde said, “I wanna ride it out with you, trust me! But Dad’s been talking about visiting some of Mom’s relatives. They live by the New Mexico border. Without school and the store there’s no reason for us to stay here, you know. He’s gonna drive out of town tomorrow to phone them. Of course I hope it won’t work out but—”

“It’s fine, Clyde,” Craig said. “I’d fuck off too if I could, trust me.”

Clyde sighed. “This really blows.”

It turned out Clyde wasn’t the source of happiness and cheer Craig had hoped for. Still, Craig stayed with him far into the evening and made the most of their time together. When they parted Clyde looked ready to cry.

“You’re gonna be all alone here!” he sobbed. “Fuck, I can’t do it. I’ll ask Dad to let me stay.”

“Don’t,” Craig warned. He didn’t mention that he wouldn’t be alone. “You go. It’s not like we won’t see each other again, Jesus. Don’t be a baby.”

Clyde straightened his back and nodded. His facade was lessened by the way he sniffled, but he kept his face without breaking into tears. “Okay, okay. I might come say goodbye tomorrow before I leave, so don’t sleep in, alright?”

“I won’t.”

For the second time that day Craig found himself in a hug. What had the world come to? Everything had turned upside-down and inside-out. At this point it wouldn’t surprise him if the moon hung in the sky green and square.

Mom was out on the lawn when he came home, chatting over the fence with the neighbors. Craig waved to her but hurried inside before anyone could ask him to participate in the conversation. The time he’d spent away from Tweek was making itself known to him, guilting him, and he took the last steps of the staircase at a run.

“Craig?” Tweek asked when he threw the door open. He sounded dazed. On a normal day flinging doors sent him scrambling, reaching for a weapon. Now he only moved his head.

Craig sat down on the bed, trying to assess him. 

“Yup, it’s me,” he said.

Sweat glued Tweek’s hair to his skin, and had stained the pillowcase. Without a thermometer it was hard to tell if the fever had receded or gotten worse over the day. He didn’t look like he was dying just yet, which was good. But he did look sorry and weak.

Craig pitied him in his illness. Whatever had afflicted Tweek wasn’t like anything Craig had experienced. Craig had been injured—he’d sprained his wrist, broken an arm, dislocated his shoulder twice and suffered a concussion. When he got hurt he picked himself up, gritted his teeth, and let the nurses and doctors deal with him in due time. If he was going to be a stupid motherfucker and get into schoolyard fights or bicycle down staircases he would also accept the consequences of his actions. Ambulances and emergency care was for people with money, and Craig did not have money. Hospitals were a luxury.

And when he fell ill, he endured. Colds could last a month, but he would go to school every day all the same. Fevers meant he was home a day, two, a week, but never had the doctor been called. Pains and cramps always passed with time, as did headaches and stomachaches. Disease could be purged through shit and vomit, snot and tears.

Would Tweek heal on his own too? Craig didn’t know how to judge whether he needed medical care or not.

“When was the last time you slept?” Craig asked. 

“Oh, Jesus… I dunno? The night we did all that grilling, in the garden?”

“Two days ago. Not your record, then.” 

Craig laid down by the foot of the bed, perpendicular to Tweek. His legs hung off the edge of the mattress. The ceiling above had a chip of missing paint, and he kept his eyes on that, as it was easier than looking at Tweek in his vulnerable state. 

He asked, “Are you feeling better?”

There was pause, as though Tweek was taking stock of himself to answer the question. 

“I don’t know,” he said. Craig waited for him to elaborate. “Ugh! I’m like, so tired! And nauseous. And my head hurts, worse than ever. But I— I know what to do now. And then it will be better.”

“How so?”

“The—_ nggh _—the beings, from out there. They’re waiting for me to answer their call. I just need to— To gather my courage and seek them out.”

“So you _ did _talk about aliens last night. Goddammit.”

Tweek pushed himself up, until he sat looking down at Craig. 

“Do you believe me?” he asked. His eyes were pleading.

“No,” Craig answered, truthfully. “Sorry.”

“You never believe me,” Tweek grumbled. “But I get it. I didn’t believe it myself at first either. But it’s real, man! I promise.”

How could Craig be expected to believe him when he said things like this with a straight face?

“What’s real?” he asked, allowing Tweek a chance to explain himself. “Tell it to me straight. No more gunshots or magnets or sirens. No metaphors. Are you really talking to aliens or whatever?”

“I am! Well, I told you—not talking. They let me know stuff, and I listen.” Tweek bunched the blanket between his hands, pulling at the loose threads. “I didn’t want to listen at first, because fuck! It was scary! But they don’t want anything bad with us, okay, this isn’t _ Mars Attack. _ They’ve been here before, many times, since forever ago! They spoke to humans and helped them, and were worshiped as deities. It all makes sense! There are clues and traces all around us if we just look, but people refuse to believe in it!”

It was as if Tweek had come alive again just to talk nonsense. He was trying to meet Craig’s eyes, but Craig dodged. He was worried he wouldn’t recognize them.

“I thought you were Buddhist. Where the fuck does the ‘Ancient Astronauts’ theory fit into that?”

It was ridiculous to debate him like this, as if they were having a real argument about real things. _ And yet_. The whole thing was so absurd Craig couldn’t stop probing, trying to see how deep it went.

“Nothing about Buddhist beliefs automatically excludes extraterrestrials. Look, if there’s a level above the human, this is how you reach it: you let go of everything—every human attachment—and you transcend. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So the aliens are making you give up your earthly life? Alright.”

“I’m not being forced! You think I can’t make choices for myself? You’re not my fucking keeper, though I know you love thinking you are!”

“What the fuck?” Craig felt as if his nursing the past days had been justified. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m not. But listen: if they can telepathically give you all this information, why wouldn't they also be able to manipulate your thoughts? What is the extent of their powers? They made you sick. That doesn't seem very nice and friendly to me.”

“It’s safe! They just want to check up on us, to understand our progression.”

“So you’re their lab rat.”

“No! An ambassador, I told you! Or, well… only if I want to be.” 

Tweek had become unhinged. He sounded so convinced of his own words. 

“And how do you become one?”

“I’m… not sure yet. I haven’t been told.”

Craig sighed. He’d heard enough. 

Tweek was being dead serious, but he seemed almost drunk, with the sweat clinging to his skin and the crazy things he said. Could this really be no more than a fever?

Craig was forced to consider another possibility: that Tweek really had gone out of his mind.

He didn’t want to entertain the thought, but he had to. The thing was, people made jokes and comments implying Tweek was less than totally sane all the time, but anyone worth anything knew that wasn’t true. He was strange and odd, sure, but Craig liked these things about him, and they had nothing to do with _ illness_. Tweek was sometimes irrational, and overly imaginative, and maybe slightly unstable, but he was healthy and normal in the ways that mattered. He was not crazy.

Or maybe he was now. There was a great difference between Tweek believing the government was spying on him through his webcam and him claiming to be communicating with godlike spacemen.

Craig hoped it was temporary. It had to be, right? Tweek needed something—medicine, a psychologist, fucking herbal tea and yoga—and he’d be alright.

“Will you make it until morning?” Craig asked. It was late, though the sky was still pale blue.

“Of course!” Tweek assured. “Why?”

“Just making sure.” Craig had made up his mind: unless Tweek had made an exponential improvement by tomorrow morning Craig would make Mom bring him to the hospital. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, willing time to move faster. “And try to sleep for once.”

“I always _ try_. You just don’t take me seriously.”

Craig didn’t feel like arguing about this any more. He crawled under the covers with him. The absurd thought that he needed to hold on to Tweek lest he got away from him in the night made him not bother with brushing his teeth, nor did he have dinner or change his clothes. Tweek, maybe feeling cold, allowed him to throw an arm around his middle. It was a long night, where sleep did not come easy. Craig lay held awake by his own restless thinking, something which happened rarely. Not until the birds started chirping again, so early in the morning it could still be considered night, did he fall unconscious.

# 6

Craig had drooled in his sleep. The spit had formed a crusty layer over his chin that flaked when he scratched at it. He turned over on his side, adjusting into a more comfortable position.

Under his hand the sheets were wet. _ What the fuck_, he thought, opening his eyes to blood-stained everything.

Tweek was still in bed, he noted with relief, though that was the only comforting thing about the situation. He looked like a fucking vampire with blood all over his face. Some of it had dried, some looked wet, and it had all probably come from the fingers in his mouth.

“Dude!” Craig snatched the hand away from him, and Tweek’s eyes blinked open. “What the hell did you do!”

He had absolutely mauled his own fingers. It was hard to tell how bad the damage was since the blood had smeared everywhere, but two of the nails seemed to be torn off all the way down to the root. One nail was still hinged precariously on the side of the nail bed, flapping like a door in the wind. 

“Oh,” Tweek said, dumbfounded. He stared at the hand, as if it was not his own.

“Did you not fucking notice doing this? Hang on, fuck.” 

Craig got out of bed. He grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table and wrapped them around the fingers. 

“Press down on this.”

It took a moment for the order to register, but Tweek squeezed the cloth against his hand. Craig wiped what he now understood was Tweek’s blood from his own chin, and then washed Tweek down too. When they were both clean Craig felt slightly less like everything was about to fall apart.

“You’ve clearly gone off the rails. I’m getting Mom—we’re going to the hospital.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently. 

“No, no, no, wait!” Tweek cried. “You can’t! Just one more day, I know everything now, please!”

He tried to sit up, but Craig pushed him back down on the bed again. Tweek clawed at him and the tissues fell away, leaving streaks of red down Craig’s arm. Tweek’s eyes were round as saucers.

“Stay here,” Craig commanded. 

The master bedroom was empty. He found Mom in the backyard, sitting in a plastic chair and staring off into the sky.

“You’re up early, sweetie,” she said. “It’s so pleasantly warm in the mornings now, and the sunrise was lovely.”

Craig didn’t have time to talk about the fucking weather. “Mom, Tweek needs to see a doctor right now.”

“Has it gotten that bad?” she asked. Attention immediately diverted from sky gazing, she turned to him and gasped. “Why are you bloody? What happened?”

“I don’t know! He hurt himself but I don’t think he was even aware of doing it. He’s saying crazy shit about aliens and stuff.”

“Did it happen today?”

Craig hesitated. “A few days ago, I guess? I thought he was just being weird, you know.”

He could tell that she wanted to scold him, but she held herself back. He was grateful. He would gladly let her berate him, later, but Tweek needed help first.

They jogged back inside. 

“Poor thing,” she said, “his fever must be much worse than we thought.”

Craig’s door was open when they got to it, and Tweek was no longer in bed. 

“Where is he?” Mom asked.

Craig cursed. “Not here, obviously. Help me look.”

Calling his name throughout the house didn’t help—Tweek was nowhere to be found. Neither were his shoes or his jacket. Craig’s heart was hammering. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and the world seemed hazy and blurred around the borders of his vision. It was a mistake to leave Tweek alone and he’d known it in his guts last night but he was never one to trust in intuition. 

The street outside the house was empty both ways.

“He’s sick and slow as fuck, he must be around here somewhere,” Craig decided. 

He and Mom looked behind all the neighbors hedges, calling for him, but after a few minutes they had to admit Tweek had gotten further than they thought.

“What the hell are two you doing?” Tricia yelled from the front porch. She was clad in her pajamas and a pair of Crocs.

“Keep a watch for Tweek, and don’t let him leave if he comes back,” Craig told her and set off down the road. 

Craig was surprised Tweek could even walk. But he could, apparently, and fucking fast too. If Tweek had actually _ ran _for it there was no telling how far away he could be by now. Were Craig lucky he’d find him collapsed in a ditch somewhere.

He was not so lucky. The block, and the next ones over, were empty save for empty candy wrappers and some old truck tires. Tweek was not here. Craig made his way towards the center of town, taking streets at random. Only a few people were outside, but he asked them all if they’d seen Tweek. No one had.

Until one early-bird jogger.

“I saw a blond guy run by, yeah. That way,” he said, pointing west.

It was the direction of Stark’s Pond, and _ oh_. Craig had a sudden, awful suspicion.

He ran, no longer bothering to check random alleyways. Tweek wouldn’t be there, he was sure now. When he made it to the still water of the pond he stopped. Where had Jimbo and Ned said the crash happened? He recognized the collection of trees where they’d entered the woods, and there, yes, among the pines he could see Tweek’s wild hair, like a beacon within the deep green foliage.

Craig wished he had his phone, but he’d gotten so used to being without it over the past week that he hadn’t even thought to grab it before he left. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway, but now he couldn’t even _ try _to call Mom and ask her to drive over. If he went back for her, would he be able to find Tweek again?

He called his name. Tweek startled, and ran. Craig had no choice but to chase after him into the trees. Where the fuck had he gotten all that energy? It made no sense. 

Impressive as it was, Craig was still faster. Yet it was not him who got to bring Tweek to a stop. The ground in the woods was uneven, littered with logs and rocks, and when Craig was almost close enough to grab him by the jacket Tweek tripped over the arc of a root. He went down hard, face-planting in the pine needles, and Craig caught up to him before he could get back on his feet.

“What the shit are you doing?” Craig asked. He gasped to get his breath back.

Tweek was panting hard too. Craig tried to help him stand up. Tweek hissed at him and slapped his hands away. 

“Go away!” he screamed. He had mud all over his face and a dirty cut across the cheek and he looked both furious and desperate. “I’m so fucking close now! You have to let me do it!”

Craig felt as if he needed safety gloves or a long stick or something to touch him. Like he would erupt if Craig made the wrong move. He crouched down to be at an even height with him and put on his most soothing voice, the one that made Tweek melt into his arms when he said the right words. 

“Let me take you home. It will be okay, alright? Let me take care of everything.”

It didn’t work. Tweek still looked livid. 

“You can’t do anything. Only I can!” he yelled. “I know that’s hard for you to believe. But at least someone has faith in me, even if they’re from outer-fucking-space!”

“Dude,” Craig started. It was definitely not the right time to argue about personal shit. “You’ve barely been able to wipe your own ass this week. You’re in no condition to be wandering the fucking woods, okay, so come home with me and stop acting like an insane person.”

“If I actually was insane this would be the most awful way to deal with me, you hopeless asshole.”

Tweek glared at Craig. There was a trace of his normal self in the way he threw the insult and Craig briefly felt hopeful. He softened, and willed Tweek’s anger to mellow out too.

“Just hear me out,” Tweek pleaded, “and then you can decide whether you want to drag me punching and kicking all the way back or trust in me. Okay?”

Craig nodded.

“We’re nearly there,” Tweek started, “and when we are, I’ll show you everything. If it turns out there is nothing out there, you can take me home and send me to the fucking asylum or whatever. But if there is, it means there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that I spoke the truth. And that is what you want, right? For me to be sane? This is your only chance of being happily proven wrong. If you drag me back you will never be sure if you made the right choice or not.”

Craig needed to process that. It was logic—of some sort. It could’ve easily been argued with. Craig should’ve argued. But Tweek looked and sounded more like himself than he had in any of the previous days, clear-headed and awake. The lunatic who tore his own nails off less than an hour ago was gone. The change astounded Craig.

“What is happening to you?” Craig asked. “You’re flip-flopping between calm and hysteria.”

“When I resist the call it’s bad! Now that I’m following it I feel light and easy. How do you explain that through logic, huh? But we need to keep going.”

“How close are we?” Craig asked. 

“Close,” Tweek said. Then, “Thank you.”

Craig hadn’t actually agreed to follow him, but found himself doing so anyway. What was happening had started to seem weird even to Craig. Maybe that was why he did it. He couldn’t explain the decision better. 

Everything really had turned upside-down: Tweek had spoken for his case in an unusually sensible way and Craig, by following him, was not being rational.

They walked on.

The woods became denser, and the terrain more sloped as they neared the mountains. Tweek led him by the hand as if they were taking a normal stroll through the park. The more they walked the more Craig got the sense that he was making another really stupid mistake, but he was allured by the chance of getting to the bottom of what Tweek was saying. Whatever they found, or didn’t find, would be the end of this. And Craig would know for certain if Tweek had lost his last marble.

A bird took off from a tree and Tweek, startled, let out a yelp—it was the kind of peculiarity Craig knew and was used to. Tweek walked slowly and carefully, but without pain and wobble. 

“Where did all your sickness go?” Craig asked. “You couldn’t even get out of bed yesterday.”

“I told you, I was resisting the pull. You have to start listening!”

It made no sense, but the proof was in his steps. Tweek pushed a branch out of the way, squeezing through the vegetation with great purpose. Craig followed a few footsteps behind Tweek, catching the branch as it rebounded.

“What exactly are you expecting us to find?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. But when I see it I will know!”

The trees became taller, denser, blocking out the sky. The woods were cast in darkness, and though Craig had played here without fear many times as a little child he now felt unease. All the trees looked the same. Would they get lost? That’d really be the cherry on the feces-cake. At least they were heading mostly in one cardinal direction, and the way home should be straight south.

For how long they walked Craig didn’t know, but it wasn’t more than ten, twenty minutes. Long enough for him to finally start considering turning back though. The further away from town they got the harder Craig was gonna have to work if Tweek put up a fight. 

“Tweek,” he said, “there’s nothing here. Let’s go back.”

“No! We’re here!”

Tweek ran, pulling Craig along. It was getting real treacherous underfoot, and Craig tried not to fall over like Tweek had done earlier. 

They stopped in a clearing. Craig’s eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to the abundant sunlight. 

The clearing was only a few feet wide, and the periphery was lined with rocks and low bushes. In the center was some garbage—singed plating around a metal box. Weeds grew in the circle around it, through a sparse rug of dead pine needles, pine cones and sticks.

Craig was, for some reason, disappointed. 

“Cool,” he said, “it’s a bunch of trash.”

Tweek tsked. “You’re so stupid! This is obviously it. Now, how do I…”

He stepped into the circle, tentatively nearing the metal rubble. 

Craig took a more careful look. The centerpiece was admittedly strange—the box was smooth and gray, no bigger than a foot, and didn’t look like anything in particular. It wasn’t covered in moss or lichen, nor was it rusted over, so it had been put there recently. Craig wondered if Jimbo and Ned had done it, or even Tweek himself. When Craig joined Tweek in the clearing he saw the box wasn’t perfectly flat but lined with grooves in a pattern he couldn’t make out.

Tweek sat down, traced the grooves with his fingertips, and sighed. Through the indents shone a light.

_ Fuck me_, Craig thought, as pictures formed on the box’s surface. 

The light emitted from the lines were pale blue, barely visible in the daylight. Rendered like primitive cave paintings were two figures: one a man with a spear, reaching towards the sky; the other, slightly above him, a humanoid but elongated, a circle around its head like a helmet. Craig knew the second figure. He’d seen something very similar on Wikipedia, on the article for ancient aliens. A cold ripple went through Craig at the sight of it. 

There was a handprint on either side of the device: one human and one with only four, abnormally long fingers. Tweek placed his hands next to them, careful not to touch. He tried to lift the box but it seemed heavy. He put it back down.

Craig didn’t know what to believe. Here it was: the magnet, a device that had been luring Tweek with its siren song since Friday. It amazed him that the thing had been here, this close to town, all this time. He wondered how Jimbo and Ned had missed it. They must’ve lacked the inner compass Tweek had, whose needle had pointed him straight to it.

The whole situation really was fucked up.

“Okay,” Craig said, “I give in. Unless this is the most elaborate prank ever, you were right. This rock is from outer space. Now what?”

Tweek didn’t answer him. He seemed absorbed in the glowing box, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. When Craig squatted next to him he saw how hard his jaw was clenched, his teeth grit and on display between his slack lips. 

Craig poked the box but didn’t feel anything.

What was it, anyway? A transmitter of some sort? It had no antenna or anything, but he supposed it had somehow disrupted the radio waves in the area. And killed the electricity. He wondered what the side effects of being in its presence were. Maybe it was radioactive and would cause a cancer outbreak in town. It was the sort of thing Tweek would worry about in a normal situation.

When Tweek let go his hands went to his hair, tugging until the strands popped. Craig knew the sign.

“You don’t look happy,” he said.

“No,” Tweek mumbled. “Arrgh! I— Fuck. Why me? I’m not good at this at all!”

Craig didn’t know what he was talking about at first. Then he remembered everything else Tweek had been rambling about, which he now had to assume was just as real as the space-box. What exactly was it he had said? Something about giving up human attachments, about transcending.

“How are you supposed to use this thing to communicate with the, uh, aliens?”

Tweek hummed, unhappily. “It’s not made for that. It’s a… a gateway. It’s pulling at me, still.”

“So how do we make it stop?”

“Ngh— We can’t.”

He was clearly uncomfortable. 

“Let’s go home,” Craig tried, again. “We call the fucking FBI or something, let them handle it. They’ll sort you out. I’m sure you’ll get an awesome book deal and we’ll be settled for life.”

Tweek made another drawn-out, pained sound. He laid his head on Craig’s shoulder, and Craig drew him in until he was snuggled into his side. There was a pebble or something under Craig’s ass, bugs crawling everywhere, but he didn’t let it bother him now. The closeness was more important. He needed to get through to Tweek, to bring him home whole and healthy.

“Fuck, man,” Tweek breathed. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

They had never exchanged real ‘I love you’s before, only ‘ILY’s and hearts through text messages. 

Craig had a bad feeling, but didn’t hesitate when he said, “I love you too.”

Tweek huddled closer. He asked, “You know of Hale-Bopp, the comet?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Then you know of the cult that believed it was tailed by a spaceship that would take all their souls into heaven. They were going to enter the level above humankind.” He paused, drew in a deep breath. “They committed mass suicide, because you can’t bring your physical body with you when you transcend.”

A layer of ice spread through Craig’s stomach. He knew what Tweek was trying to say.

“Tweek,” he begged.

He caught Tweek’s wrists, but he twisted his arms until Craig was forced to let go of him.

“Listen! I won’t be able to return if I go.”

“So don’t go. You really don’t have to do anything.”

“But I do. The one thing you were right about: I never had a choice.” He detached himself from Craig’s side, and stood. “If I had, obviously I’d choose you! But… the pain! It will never go away. It will get worse and worse, like it has been. If I let you take me away from here, I’ll be suffering until I die. I don’t want that! It will be unbearable!”

He was fully shaking now, like a violently strummed guitar. Craig could tell how terrified he was. 

But Tweek was the bravest person Craig knew.

Scared as he was, he didn’t hesitate before he grabbed the box and laid his hands over top the hand prints, moving so quick Craig did not have time to stop him.

The glow became brighter, a beaming white light. The air was crackling. Craig felt as if all the oxygen was being displaced, like he was being suctioned away on a molecular level. Had Tweek been feeling this all way week? 

Tweek let out a breath, then a moan, then a long, tortured whine. 

It didn’t stop when Craig tore him away from the box. It tumbled to the ground, clattering onto the pieces of its shell. Tweek fell to his knees, convulsing like he was having an epileptic attack. His whimpers didn’t stop.

What the fuck was Craig supposed to do? He was pretty sure the whatever-it-was was sucking the soul out of Tweek’s body to take him away, which meant Tweek was essentially dying. Time was slipping away as Craig stood uselessly, if time was something he had any left of. He tried to think, come up with some way to save Tweek, to make everything stop.

Craig usually: cool, steadier than a mountain. Calm under pressure.

Craig now: freaking the fuck out. Panicking.

“Craig,” Tweek hissed through clenched teeth, “the rocks! Break it.”

Now Craig was moving. He grabbed the nearest stone by the bushes; a big, weighty slab. It was and rough in his palms. His arms shook with the effort to hoist it above his head—it was too heavy, but he felt as if he was running on enough adrenaline to heave a car.

With all the strength he had he smashed it into the device. It cracked open like an egg, a yolk of machinery spilling out onto the pine needles.

The atmosphere itself seemed to come to a stop. Tweek crumbled to the ground. 

He was silent. 

It hadn’t worked. Why would it have? A primitive rock against the extraordinary technology of a more advanced species?

Craig’s hands shook as he rolled Tweek over to lay on his back. He brushed the dirt from his face. Tweek had been crying; wet trails ran down his cheeks, shimmering in the sunlight. Craig couldn’t tell whether he was crying or not himself. It was hard to make sense of anything.

In the last moment Tweek had changed his mind. He had told Craig what to do, how to save him. He didn’t want to transcend into the depths of space, but it had been too late. 

Everything that had happened today was incomprehensible.

He stared into the blue of Tweek’s eyes without knowing what he was seeing.

Then reality caught back up with Craig. Tweek's eyes were open. He was breathing, drawing a small breath in through his nose, his chest rising with it. 

“Honey?” Craig tried. “Did you live?

What a stupid thing to ask. Tweek must’ve found it amusing, because his chest shook with suppressed laughter. 

“I think so,” he said, sounding hoarse and weak. But he smiled, faintly.

Things were happening too fast for Craig to fully process, but the cold and heavy feelings drained from his body slowly, giving way for tired relief.

He helped Tweek sit up. His head lolled to the side, as if he no longer had the strength to hold himself up. He probably didn’t. Craig wondered where all that sudden energy he’d gotten went. Dissipated into the air as the spell of the box was broken? It didn’t matter, really. All Craig wanted to do now was to finally take Tweek home and forget about this whole thing.

The shards of the shattered device could rot with the dirt and the worms for all he cared. Its innards crackled and sparked helplessly. There were wires and broken circuit boards, pieces that looked a lot like what Craig had built his PC with—but all of it was also somehow off, and he couldn’t even begin guessing what each part did.

He couldn’t believe he’d been able to smash it. That something so incredible was so fragile. He suspected the pieces of plating around it wouldn’t be as easy—something must’ve protected it as it journeyed across outer space and crashed through the earth’s atmosphere. 

But none of that mattered now.

Craig made sure Tweek was sitting somewhat upright on his own before he left his side to push the pieces of the box and its shell into the bushes. He was kicking some needles and dirt over the pile when he heard retching. Tweek was throwing up—or trying to on his empty stomach—hacking painfully as bile and spit dribbled from his mouth.

When it was over Tweek made a face and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The scabs on his fingers had split open, bleeding slowly. His nail beds were dirty from the forest. Craig wanted to see him clean again, to sanitize his wounds and wash away all the evidence of today. Craig longed to see him healthy.

“Are you okay?” Craig asked.

“Yeah,” Tweek rasped. “I got so dizzy when you— But I’ll be good.”

Craig nodded. It was time to go, before something even more absurd happened.

Together they managed to make Tweek stand up, but it was with such difficulty that Craig wondered how the hell they were going to make it back to South Park. Could Tweek even walk? They made it a few steps, Tweek leaning heavily on Craig, before Craig decided he wanted to make it home at some point before sundown.

“I’m gonna have to carry you,” he declared. 

He felt a little bit like a hero holding Tweek like a bride, until he realized how fucking heavy Tweek’s dead weight was.

“Let me piggyback, you moron,” Tweek said. “You’re gonna drop me, and I might break my back and end up paralyzed forever!”

Craig had never been happier to hear him overthinking silly things.

Even with Tweek clinging to his back the walk still took forever. By the time Craig saw the dark water of Stark’s Pond gleaming between the tree trunks Craig was exhausted and Tweek had fallen asleep. The rising and falling of his chest against Craig’s back was comforting. Tweek was making low noises, murmuring. Craig hoped he wasn’t having bad dreams.

Craig stumbled out of the woods and onto the dirt road in the park. The sun was still low in the sky, not even close to midday. It seemed wrong that they should have the whole day in front of them now—weren’t strange things supposed to happen at night? Regardless they both needed sleep.

The park was full of birdsong and empty of people. Craig had hoped a car would spot them and pick them up. He longed for Mom to drive by in her compact and take them home, and wondering if she was still searching for them, he looked towards town.

In all the houses the windows shone with yellow lamplight.

# ∞

The hillside was more crowded than Craig had hoped. Many of their neighbors had gathered at the spot, bringing their excited children and even more excited dogs. The beer was flowing, and someone had brought a whole fucking grill. The evening had become an _ event_.

“It’s mostly your fault,” Tweek pointed out. “You shouldn’t have told everyone what we were doing.”

“They asked,” Craig said, defending himself. “And you told me to be friendly.”

Tweek laughed. “I did, yes. Though you could’ve made smalltalk about something else.” He went quiet, looking at the setting sun. After several long moments, he said, “I don’t mind them being here. It’s nice… Comforting.”

Craig understood what he meant, and he supposed he agreed. The people mulling about around them made the evening seem like any other. The normalcy of hearing the neighbors’ brats screaming grounded him, assuring him that all was safe and normal.

Not that anything was going to happen. But he still got the feeling from time to time that the sky would open up and take Tweek away from him.

After he had recovered in the hospital, so long ago, Tweek had told him with certainty that there was nothing to fear now. How Tweek knew this, Craig didn’t understand, but he’d known it the way he knew all those other things he’d been right about. They wouldn’t come get him, he said, because he’d never specifically been chosen. He was a failed attempt at nabbing a human among many more successful ones.

After forty years of nothing happening, it seemed Tweek had been speaking the truth. And through Tweek rarely seemed to dwell on what had happened, the unease hit Craig every so often. It had been so close. He had almost lost the most important person in his life.

He reached for Tweek’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, and Craig felt the smooth silver of the ring Tweek wore against his skin. The other ring sat on Craig’s free hand, and he spun it with his thumb, reveling in its existence.

“Where is it?” some kid asked his mom. 

The woman bent down to speak to her son. 

“You have to wait until it’s dark,” she said.

“What was its name?” the kid asked.

“Holly, I think.”

“It’s Halley,” Craig cut in, “Halley’s Comet.”

The kid turned to him. “Halley, Holly, Halley,” he said, comparing the words on his tongue.

“It was last seen in nineteen-eighty-six,” Craig explained, “but now it’s back. It only shows up every seventy-five years.”

“I hope the sky will be clear enough to see it,” the woman said.

“It’s supposed to be.”

Another kid ran up to the boy, and the two of them took off down the hill. The woman gave a goodbye-smile and followed them at a walk.

“Are you sure?” Tweek asked. “It would be so embarrassing if everyone showed up and a cloud was in the way. What if they’re so angry we wasted their time that we get shunned from the community? What if they kick me from the pottery club? Argh! ”

“Relax,” Craig said, “I double-checked. And look, it’s getting dark, and there’s not a single cloud.”

Indeed, the last of the orange was disappearing from the horizon. Above them the sky was a medium, summer-night’s blue, and clear. This far from the big city star-dots could be faintly seen.

“Oh,” Tweek breathed. “It’s so beautiful. The sky I mean. I’d forgotten… I rarely look.”

This was news to Craig. Maybe Tweek hadn’t been as unaffected as he thought.

“We will look today, and then we can go home until the next one shows up.”

Tweek snorted. “You think you’re gonna live for seventy-five more years? Please! With that belly I’d say you have like… twenty.”

Tweek squeezed the little amount of flab that cushioned his stomach. Craig batted him away.

“Don’t be an asshole about it. I know you still want my dick.”

“That’s true,” Tweek admitted. 

He rose to his tiptoes, pecking Craig on the lips the same way he’d done countless times over the years. Craig too did what he had always done: he pulled Tweek closer, and deepened the kiss. 

Some time later when it finally darkened enough Craig searched the sky. He had brought binoculars, but no one else had, so he left them in his backpack. He didn’t want to see the comet unless everyone else could too. Since last week it was supposed to be visible to the naked eye anyway, if the weather was right. But until tonight it had been cloudy.

“Can you see it?” Tweek asked.

“Hang on,” Craig mumbled. 

The expanse of the sky was immense, and this was only what they could see from earth; beyond, space stretched into infinity. 

He squinted. “I think so… Yes! There!”

It was a tiny smudge among the stars. It was so far away that it seemed completely still, as if glued to its spot, but the long tail told the story of its unfathomable speed.

He pointed at it. Around people took notice, and turned their faces to the stars. The word spread in whispers and yells until everyone was standing still, even the smallest of the children, trying to get a look at something most of them had never experienced before.

Tweek had spotted it too. 

“It’s so cool!” he gasped. “How far away is it?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Craig said. “Far. Though right now it’s as close to us as it gets, really. At most its orbit reaches even further out than Neptune’s.”

Tweek hummed in thought. “But Neptune isn’t that far away either, in the great scale of things.”

“I guess not. It’s all relative.”

“I wonder how far away _ They _were.”

Craig tore his eyes from the comet to look at Tweek. 

“I thought you knew.”

“No, I couldn’t comprehend it. The distance was too great to be meaningful.”

Craig didn’t really want to talk about it. 

“Good. The further, the better.” 

He pulled Tweek closer by the hand. Tweek seemed to understand his wish, and didn’t say anything else. He laid his head to rest against Craig’s shoulder, and Craig laid his arm around him, hugging him to his side. Tweek and him fitted so perfectly together, like they had been designed as a single whole. The universe had no right trying to separate them.

Together they watched the comet until it no longer was interesting. Around them their neighbors began herding the children down the hill, the evening too old for them to stay up much longer. The parents made a great ruckus, trying to get everything together, killing any and all lingering suspense Craig felt.

As the crowd began to thin Tweek reached for Craig’s hand, telling him wordlessly to follow. They walked home with everyone else.

_ A chance to get out of here—out of the human kingdom—whenever it is offered, requires everything of you—that you, as an individual, go join some cult—that you leave everything behind—that you ignore the members of your family—that you ignore the responsibility to your community—that you ignore your career—and that hearts will be broken. _

_—Planet Earth About To Be Recycled (Your Only Chance To Survive Is To Leave With Us)_. From the Heaven’s Gate website.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥


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